


Quartet

by OracleObscured



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ABDL, Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Beads, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Angst, Bathtub Sex, Bibliophilia, Bisexual Male Character, Caning, Comeplay, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Dom/little, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Enemas, Exhibitionism, F/M, Feels, Femdom, Finger Sucking, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Jewelry Fetish, Leather, M/M, Masturbation, Mild S&M, Multi, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Paddling, Pegging, Pool Sex, Queening Throne, Restraints, Riding Crops, Rimming, Semi-public masturbation, Sex Toys, Spanking, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2018-09-22 07:30:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 63
Words: 278,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9591863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OracleObscured/pseuds/OracleObscured
Summary: An accidental audience. An unforgettable performance. An encore of epic proportions. Magic, sex, love, and kink melding into a harmonious whole. SS/LM/HG/DM





	1. Audience

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Well . . . crap-a-lap-a-ding-dong. This story, which was supposed to take me about six months to finish, is now over a year in the making. It's gone through planning, outlining, two drafts, and some chapters have been rewritten multiple times. I am beyond ready to get this thing posted. I just need to give everyone a heads up before you start.  
> I will be releasing these chapters every two to four days (depending on how urgently I think the next chapter needs to be posted). I am still rewriting/fixing some of the later chapters, and I need time to work on them, so no, I won't be rushing to get this all up in record time. I decided to vary my usual modus operandi and make my chapters shorter but greater in number. There are 83 chapters (that includes the epilogue), so this is a long story. The chapters vary greatly in length, ranging from 970 words at the shortest to maybe 10,300 at the longest. (But I would guess most average 3000-4000.) Each chapter is from either Hermione, Draco, Lucius, or Severus's point of view and I have indicated the POV at the top of each chapter to avoid confusion.  
> Yes, there will be a lot of sex in it. If you've read my other stories, you know my stories are sex-centric, but I did manage to make it through some chapters without anyone getting naked this time. I don't know if that's something to be proud of or not. I would like to state for the record that there are some kinky themes here, and they are not going to be everyone's cup of tea. Please read the tags/warnings for this story before you begin, and if you can't handle my kink heat, stay out of my kitchen. (Or stick around and broaden your horizons, but don't say I didn't warn you.)  
> Along those lines, I'd like to clarify something before you begin, Draco and Lucius are both with Hermione in this story. Together. But they do not have an incestuous relationship. I have nothing against incest stories, and I've read my fair share, but that's not what this story is about. I understand that this can be a squicky situation for some people, so I thought it best to be up front about it. Draco and Lucius have a complicated relationship here, but it isn't sexual.  
> And lastly, I want to explain my chapter titles, quotes, and end notes. In case you didn't notice, the title of this story is Quartet, and I wanted to integrate the theme of music into the story. All chapter titles are musical terms, and I'll give definitions for most of them in the end notes. The quotes are all lyrics that pertain to the chapter in some way, and they're cited in the end notes as well (where I've also got links to the recordings if you want to listen to them). There will occasionally be other tidbits about the chapter in the end note section.  
> I hope everyone who ventures forth after this mile long author's note enjoys the story. I love hearing from everyone, and I appreciate all the support I get from my fans more than I can say. Your enthusiasm keeps me going. Much love from me to you <3

1—Audience

“Private Eyes. They're watching you. They see your every move.”—Hall & Oates

(Hermione)

A blissful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. _Yes! More!_ Her hand skimmed down the leather, her thighs tightening in anticipation. Her hips circled once. Twice. Her clit screamed for a touch. She closed her eyes, pitching back her head as she inhaled deeply. _Oh gods. Smell that?_ Could any scent be more mouthwatering? The most primal areas of her brain lit up like a finale of fireworks. Her juices started to flow. _Now._

She opened her eyes and leveled her gaze. _Mine_. Spreading her arms like the Winged Victory of Samothrace, she strutted between the shelves, touching every spine as she passed. _Yeeeeeeees_ _!_ The dusty scent of decaying parchment tickled her nose. The perfume of periodicals. That smell could bring a girl to her knees.

This was a library fit for a queen. And since there were no other females in sight, she deduced that this was her kingdom. These leather and canvas covers were hers to rule. She could open any of them and command their knowledge. Her loyal subjects cheered her reign and begged for an audience with their majesty.

Unfortunately, a fine layer of dust covered most of the silent throng, leaving them all dulled in a ghostly haze of grey. She brushed off her fingers and caressed one aged spine whose lettering had worn away. _The Malfoys really should take better care of their books. It would be a shame if something happened to all these rare titles._

Draco's library was the main reason she agreed to come to his parties. When he'd started working at the Ministry five years earlier, she had expected him to pick up where he'd left off as the Prat Prince of Slytherin. But the war had done more than smear his family name through the mud; it had sucked away his snark. He'd been nothing but polite and courteous when they shared the lift or passed in the halls, but she'd assumed he was just putting on a good show for anyone who might be watching. But then at lunch in the canteen, he had asked to sit with her, and she'd almost fallen out of her hard plastic chair in shock.

Draco 2.0 was a worthy companion. They'd been awkward and stiff with each other at first, but they eventually fell into a comfortable rhythm. She never thought she'd see the day when she'd be joking with Draco Malfoy over shepherd’s pie and apple crumble, but time had a way of making fools of even the most stubborn witches.

He was still arrogant and sarcastic, he just didn't aim his dispersions in her direction. Hermione found his intelligence appealing, and he _was_ a consummate conversationalist, which was something her brain appreciated. She soon discovered that talking wasn't Draco's only perk. It turned out he had the inside scoop on the entire Ministry. She worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, while Draco was in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He was privy to information that never made its way to her desk, and it didn't hurt that he chatted up every witch in the building. As soon as he turned on the charm, they were all dying to spill their secrets. He was a one man MI5.

That came in handy when her lowly division, Creature Justice, needed more money. It was just her and two subordinates—they weren't high on the funding totem poll. But with Draco's inside information, she'd gotten two financial windfalls. He'd done more for Creature Justice than anybody would ever know—including him.

Then, two years into their budding friendship, Draco's remaining swagger had taken an even bigger blow when Narcissa contracted a particularly virulent strain of dragon pox. The virus quickly ravaged her beauty with its harsh scarring and discoloration, and then with hardly any warning, she’d died.

Draco and Lucius were devastated by the loss, and although Draco came back to work, he’d changed. He had become quieter, and Hermione found him much more thoughtful during their lunchtime chats. They occasionally went out for drinks after work, but Hermione didn't really like to drink; so she just sat with him while he got pissed on Firewhisky. He wasn't a mean drinker, so she didn't mind.

Mostly he was a dance-y drinker. He'd down a few shots then find some willing witch to fling around the floor. Hermione couldn't help noticing most of them were blonde. If he didn't go home with one of his dance partners, he came over to her flat and crashed on her couch.

She would find him there in the morning, huddled into a ball under her Aunt Geraldine’s green afghan, his eyes red and swollen from crying. He always said it was from the drinking, but she knew better.

Sad Draco was a much more sensitive Draco. At least to her he was. She had no idea how he treated his sexual conquests. Maybe he was still humping and dumping them. She tried to stay out of that side of his life. To her, he was just Malfoy, her stuck-up friend—who allowed her to fondle his massive literary endowment. In that respect she could see why a witch would want to get her hands on him. 

But she doubted any of his bed bunnies were doing him for his library. Hell, she wondered how many of them could even read. But that was their loss and her gain. Each thick volume was hers to stoke and fondle at her leisure, and she couldn’t resist flipping through its pages until it ejected its contents all over her brain. So much satisfaction without even breaking a sweat.

Not at all like the ham-handed pillocks outside. She wasn't in the mood to fend off their infantile attempts at seduction. How exhausting. Draco was probably out there shagging one of his giggling minions. He liked to stock up on pussy during the weekend to tide him over during the week. While she found all his choices a bit lacking, she couldn't begrudge him a little pleasure.

She could do with a decent poke herself. Unfortunately, creature cases kept her busy; and she didn't meet too many eligible men in her line of work. She'd met some smoking hot centaurs, but that was a bit more beastiality than she was comfortable with.

Draco’s party was crawling with available wizards. Crawling. Like spiders. They gave her the creeps. Most of them seemed to think they were fabulously charming, or they drank until they convinced themselves they were. Meaningless shags on the Malfoys' manicured lawn wasn't what she had in mind when she imagined getting laid.

These books, however, were exactly what she had in mind. That was why she always accepted Draco's invitations. She'd make an appearance at the party then slip inside as if she needed the loo. Everyone would be laughing and chatting outside, swimming in the pool and splashing about. They never noticed her sneaky departure.

Except Draco. He was onto her game. After everyone started to leave, he'd usually wander in and find her lost in the pages of some ancient relic. Sometimes he dragged her away, saying she was getting as dusty as her reading material; but other times he just left her there. Twice he'd come in in the morning to find her asleep on the floor, her selections scattered around her like empty bottles after a bender.

Once, he had come down in the middle of the night and carried her to the sofa. Her sweet literary enabler.

Hermione chose a book at random and flipped through its pages. Potions. She wished there was some order to this library. It seemed everything was just haphazardly thrown together. The next book was on magical house plants. And the one beside it was on . . . holy shit.

She turned back to the cover. No name. She searched for a title page. _The Gentleman's Guide to Discipline_. None of this looked like anything a gentleman would do. 

Not that. 

Or that. 

And certainly not that. 

She couldn't stop turning the pages.

Resting the book on an empty bit of shelf, she quickly skimmed each chapter. Her blue linen party dress suddenly felt too breezy. Her nether regions had only a delicate layer of lace to separate her from the world. Pulling her shrug tighter, she scanned each illustration like an art critic. This was so . . . dirty. And spellbinding. Her pussy seemed to love it even more than her eyeballs. She squirmed as her knickers got doused with a shot of lubrication. Merlin's balls. Would Draco know if she "commandeered" this particular selection? Stealing was wrong, but this might be the exception. She couldn't say, "Pardon me, Draco, my pussy would like to borrow this incredibly graphic book you have on 101 ways to make Hermione happy. You wouldn't mind if I took it home for a quick roll in sack, would you?" No, that wouldn't do at all. She'd never hear the end of it. Maybe she could sneak it out under her skirt.

Between her thighs.

No one would know. _Just me and my pussy._

She turned the book sideways and watched as the man in the drawing pulled a witch over his knee and eased a large plug up her backside. Dammit. Where were was a good plug-wielding wizard when you needed one? And now he was spanking the lucky captive. This artist deserved an award for most lifelike pencil renderings. How could she be so turned on by a bunch of lines on a piece of paper? Her pussy was dripping like a coffee maker.

After a quick glance to make sure she was still alone, she slipped her hand under her skirt and slid her fingers into her panties. Oh shit. So that's where the English Channel had been diverted. _Wonderful. Your timing is bloody brilliant,_ _Muffy_ _. Why aren't you this wet when I'm trying to_ _boff_ _myself to sleep?_ Although she told her frolicking fingers that masturbating in the Malfoys’ library was indecent, they ignored her chiding and went on with their soggy exploration. _Who's going to know?_ they argued.

Excellent point.

The doorknob across the room rattled as it turned, and she yanked her hand away from her crotch and held her breath. Her heart struck up a painful tattoo against her ribs just to hammer home the admonishment. _This is why you don't touch yourself in public. It's a heart attack waiting to happen._ Pressing her damp hand to her thudding breast to hold in her heart, she peered through the shelves to see who had interrupted her love-in.

_Oh. My. God._

Hermione blinked to make sure she was seeing things correctly. Lucius had somebody backed against the wall of the alcove that surrounded the door. His long blond hair was unmistakable. She couldn't see who the other person was. Someone tall. And Dark. Male . . . or an incredibly tall woman. The shadows made identification difficult. She'd never seen such a furious snogging before.

“Ding _dong_ ,” she whispered under her breath. She had no idea that her hiding spot in the library came complete with a peep show.

Her conscience chastised her spying, but her pussy would hear none of that. _Too bad, brain_. _I'm in charge now. We're watching, and that's final._

Lucius's partner gained the upper hand and pinned him against the wall. Her heart stammered, pounding out a trippy timpani. No one had ever kissed _her_ like that, and her lips knew they’d been missing out on something spectacular. The other person grabbed Lucius’s face and pulled back for air, both of them panting hard and staring into each other's eyes.

That hand. She knew that hand. Her mind flashed back to her days at Hogwarts, sitting in the dungeons, watching her professor caress a cauldron as it cooled. _No way._ She squinted into the darkness. Well no wonder she could barely see him—he was all in black.

Snape's pale hand slithered down to Lucius's trousers and palmed his package with a firm caress. Hermione's eyes bugged out as he rubbed the other man like a magic lamp. Morgana's molting magpies! How long had this been going on? Did Draco know his father was fucking his old professor? 

The questions rolling through her mind were inconsequential compared to the waterfall between her legs. She was ready to start humping the shelves. And she would have done it too if she hadn’t been terrified of being spotted. 

Severus pulled back from Lucius and walked to the couch, as if he'd suddenly decided he'd had enough snogging for one night. Her clit pouted with disappointment. As they moved out into the light of the fire, she could see much more clearly. Snape sat on the couch, cool and unaffected, apparently bored for some unfathomable reason, and Lucius went to the liquor cabinet to pour their drinks. The amber liquid colored each cut-glass goblet as they filled, and Malfoy took one to Snape. Sitting down next to him, Lucius started talking. Their conversation was so quiet she could hear nothing but the rumbling resonance of each vowel and the broken pulse of each consonant. Lucius put his hand on Snape's thigh, and Hermione—and her rabid clit—perked back up.

This was a masterpiece. White and black. On a black leather couch. Leather. Why was her brain so turned on by Snape and Lucius displayed a background of leather? It conjured up so many delicious possibilities.

And she was starved for a hearty helping of deliciousness. Her stomach lurched with a pang of hunger.

Although she was often struck by a desolate sense of loneliness now that most of her friends had married, for the moment, her inner ache was purely physical. Her body longed for a warm hand between her thighs, a kiss on the neck, the weight of a body atop hers. Someone to want her. Why was it so damn hard to find a good man? One who fancied books and music. One who capped off a night of incredible sex by kissing her forehead and holding her till she fell asleep. One who was sweet and interested in her day . . . but fucked her through the mattress when she needed to let go. Was that too much to ask?

And she'd been disappointed to discover that wizards were not the perverts they purported to be. None of them knew what she wanted. And she didn't know how to tell them. It was all so embarrassing to say out loud. Frustration and sex had become synonymous in her mind. Men acted as if her pussy and breasts were the only erogenous zones she possessed, but it was her brain that needed the tickle. She was turned on so easily. Imagination was her lubricant. Anticipation could get her dripping without a single touch. Just a suggestion. It was all she needed.

And now she had been flung into a sea of suggestion. Snape and Lucius made excellent kindling for the sexual bonfire building in her brain.

She watched in fascination as Lucius stroked the Potions master like a comfortable lover. She couldn't quite see _exactly_ where his hand was going, but she was pretty sure he was lingering in Crotchville. Or at least that was story her pussy liked to believe.

Gnawing on her lower lip, she tipped her head to one side and peered through the books, trying to get a better view of the action.

"What'cha lookin at, Granger?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter notes: Private Eyes by Hall and Oates. Written by Sara Allen, Janna Allen, Daryl Hall, and Warren Pash. <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=JsntlJZ9h1U>
> 
> “Ding dong” was totally stolen from Bridget Jones’s Diary, which I was watching while editing this. Props to Helen Fielding for that. I’m sure she didn’t invent the phrase, but she did make me love it.  
> *Edit* One of my brilliant readers has told me where "Ding dong" came from. "BTW, Ding Dong is one of those catch phrases that infiltrated British language a good many decades ago, as uttered by Mr Leslie Phillips <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=0awJf7OWMmo> although usually a little more suggestively than in that clip. It is perhaps more appropriate because he was also the voice of the Sorting Hat :D"  
> Thank you again, Dawn EB :)
> 
> More on the winged victory (and pictures if you're not familiar with the work). <https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winged_Victory_of_Samothrace>


	2. Prelude

2—Prelude 

“Whenever this world is cruel to me, I got you to help me forgive. Ooh, you make me live now, honey.”—Queen 

(Draco) 

Hermione spun around, her hair whipping his face like a bushy flogger. Draco pulled back so he wouldn’t be blinded in the whirlwind. She looked absolutely mortified—her eyes wide as cue balls and her gaze darting around as if she were searching for an impromptu exit. He’d never seen her so skittish. Interesting. What could have goosed Goody Granger into such a state of hysteria? 

His eyes settled on the book she had sitting on the shelf. He’d recognize those illustrious illustrations anywhere. Draco couldn’t help grinning. Was the Pristine Princess a closeted Kink Kitten? The very notion was delicious. “What’s this, Granger? Looking for a good bedtime story?” 

Her expression pinched into a pucker of worry, and she smashed her hand over his mouth. “Shh,” she hissed under her breath. “Keep your voice down.” 

Keep his voice down? Why? It suddenly dawned on him that the book was not her dirty little secret. She’d been looking _through_ the shelves when he sneaked up behind her. Someone had become the unwitting subject of her surreptitious surveillance. Leaning down, he peered through the shelves to see what had gotten her so worked up. 

His father and Severus were sitting on the couch, engaged in some profound conversation . . . and some even more profound petting. He was impressed they were both still vertical. 

Lucius and Severus were an odd pair, but they somehow complemented each other once you got past the initial surprise. Draco had become privy to that surprise when he was just eight years old. He’d walked in on his parents and Snape all in bed together. Naked. Later, his mother had given him some child-appropriate explanation, telling him that Snape was their “special friend,” and sometimes he stayed in their bed—like a sleepover. Draco may have been a bit wet at eight, but he wasn’t so thick that he bought that rubbish. He knew about sex, and he knew that whatever was going on between his parents and Snape had more to do with his father than his mother. 

It was Lucius who was obsessed with touch, which was cruelly incongruent with his stance on hugging his son—or rather _not_ hugging his son. 

Over the years Draco had become inured to his parents’ constant snogging and groping. It was commonplace. Boring. He would have been more stunned to see them _not_ touching. His mother had told him that, as a small child, he would try to push them apart when his father kissed her. Apparently he was quite the shin kicker, and his father hadn’t appreciated the competition. Draco couldn’t remember doing any such thing, but imagining it made him smile. Perhaps he’d been a toddler with a sense of honor. 

Or maybe he was just jealous. His father had always encouraged him to take what was his, so it was Lucius's own fault; the lech shouldn’t have been manhandling his mummy. 

But Lucius had a voracious appetite. One violent ankle-biter wouldn’t dissuade his desire. He was a sensate junky. Even as a child, it hadn’t surprised Draco one bit that his father was seeking out auxiliary sources of touch. The man was addicted to pleasure. And once Draco discovered the concept of buggery, the “sleepovers” suddenly made even more sense. Strangely, he’d never questioned his father’s sexual orientation. Straight or gay was immaterial; Lucius was just a slut for sensuality. Snape was simply offering him more choices. 

Despite all the extra-marital fucking, Draco never spent even one second worrying about the strength of his parents’ marriage. Lucius adored Narcissa. He was devoted to her. They were like newlyweds who hadn’t figured out that the honeymoon was supposed to end when they got home—even after thirty years. When Narcissa died, Lucius had died with her. He came home from the funeral and wrapped himself in the shrouds of his sheets and buried himself in their bed. The windows were draped in black curtains, blocking out all available light, which added to the sepulcher stagnation pervading the room. Lucius holed himself away, only emerging to occasionally pick at some food or wander the halls at night. 

After a year of that, Draco was seriously worried. Lucius looked like a corpse, his face sunken with grief, the glint gone from his glare. Lucius rebuffed Draco’s attempts to help, so in a fit of desperation, Draco had written to Severus. He’d just been hoping for some suggestion, an insight that might move his father in a new direction; but Snape had gone beyond the call of duty and shown up in person the very next morning. 

Draco was relieved. He’d been completely lost trying to tackle the problem on his own. Snape spent the entire weekend locked in Lucius’s room. No dulcet grunts of fucking echoed through the corridors, so Draco assumed they were just talking. Whatever worked. Draco wasn’t one to judge others’ coping strategies. He wasn’t exactly a pillar of sanity himself. 

After almost three years, the hole in his own heart remained as fresh as the day of his mother’s death. He didn’t cry himself to sleep anymore, but he still felt that dagger of sorrow piercing his chest. He’d lost something irreplaceable. The war had taken everything he’d thought was important—prestige, comfort, influence. When all was said and done, his mother’s unconditional love was the only thing left intact. He’d clung to it with every fiber of his being. The prejudice and pureblood propaganda had been abandoned, shunned; that nonsense had almost destroyed them. All he wanted was the solace of her embrace. Safety. Acceptance. He didn’t know how important those things were until they’d been taken from him. 

But his one remaining lifeline had been ripped away. He’d been left torn and raw, his insides at the mercy of life’s jagged edge. Solace had to be sought elsewhere. He tried his father first . . . then Firewhisky . . . then sex. None were successful. His father was as warm as ice, the Firewhisky just made him numb, and the sex only distracted him until he came. 

But sometimes numb and distracted were preferable to the never-ending ache in his soul. He had to take what he could get. It was soothing to share his bed with another warm body, but that wasn't enough to silence the little boy in him who just wanted his mummy. He was twenty-seven years old for Merlin's sake. Shouldn't he have outgrown such juvenile neediness? No matter how logically he looked at it, he couldn’t resist the siren’s call of a willing witch moaning beneath him and screaming his name with enough volume to drown out the echo of his hollow heart. Each conquest was a frantic attempt to forget, a desperate search for a caring touch. It wasn't the rutting he was after, it was the bleak intimacy, a second's connection and closeness. Shagging wasn't really what he needed, but he didn't know how else to achieve that moment of peace. 

But those witches were no more than filler. Distraction. They just wanted to bed a bad boy. None of them knew the real Draco Malfoy. They didn’t understand him. 

Except Granger. She knew. She was the only witch who really listened to him. And then she’d mull over what he said and ask him about it later. She cared. When he wanted to get pissed, she’d go along and look after him, and then when he was too trashed to think, she’d take him back to her tiny flat and set him up on her lumpy couch and let him sleep off the alcohol. 

She had become his closest confidante. All those years of house rivalry at school now seemed like wasted energy. Thank Merlin she was the forgiving sort, or he wouldn’t even have that one outlet. The only downside was she didn’t seem interested in him sexually. That was a shame. Tragic really. The one witch who gave him the care he craved was the only one who didn't try to get in his trousers. He never let on, but he fantasized about her all the time—especially when he spent the night at her flat. 

He'd imagine her waking him from a bad dream, her warm hand on his chest, her kiss on his brow. She'd whisper that he was all right . . . and he'd believe it coming from her lips. Her arms would wrap around him, and she'd climb in next to him and press his cheek to her heart. By that time he was usually humping the crease of the couch cushions; in his mind they were her thighs clutching his cock. 

For the past four months, he'd been cleverly avoiding other witches at closing time just so he could go home with Granger. Her couch might be lumpy, but he preferred it over his own bed. 

He wished there was some way to suggest they become closer. If he was having sex with his favorite witch, maybe he’d finally find some lasting happiness. But how does a wizard bridge the gap between mate and mating? She wasn’t at all like his usual dates—much more complex. He couldn’t just sweet talk her; she’d think he’d gone completely mental. And if he said the wrong thing, he’d be risking their friendship. So offering a sympathetic pussy massage was probably out. As was cordial cunnilingus or hospitable humping, all of which he’d considered. She’d probably smack him and never let him near her couch cushions again. 

She was always so uptight and respectable. His weekend antics garnered nothing more than an eye roll and a weary shake of her head. He had always assumed she just wasn’t all that interested in sex. She’d only had two real boyfriends in all the years he’d known her. He pictured them sitting around reading or maybe indulging in a chaste kiss at the end of the night. But finding her with his favorite book, spying on his father and Snape—maybe he’d gotten her all wrong. 

Draco’s eyes slid to the side, a lecherous smile curling his lips. Kinky Kitten indeed. He reached up and removed her hand from his mouth. 

“Were you perving on my father and Snape?” he whispered. 

“No!” 

If she looked any guiltier, the Wizengamot was going to suddenly appear and send her off to Azkaban. Draco shook his head, still grinning from ear to ear. “Then why do your fingers smell like a pair of Saturday night knickers?” 

She snatched away her hand and hid it behind her back, her face flaming to a nice shade of Liars Lava Red. “They do not.” 

“Naughty naughty, you’ll get caughty,” he said in a whispered sing-song. “That book has some inspired suggestions about what to do when you catch a witch with her hand down her panties.” 

“You found me in no such position. Now let’s get out of here before we’re spotted.” 

Draco glanced through the shelves again. Maybe Granger needed some excitement in her life, a little jolt to nudge her in the right direction. She certainly needed to loosen up. No witch that beautiful should spend all her time buried in books and Ministry work. She should have _some_ fun. 

And he wanted to have a little fun with her. 

Smiling, Draco and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t be silly. It’s only polite to go out and say hello.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prelude—Prelude, musical composition, usually brief, that is generally played as an introduction to another, larger musical piece.—Britannica.com
> 
> “You're my Best Friend” by Queen. John Deacon, who plays both the Wurlitzer and bass in the '76 recording, wrote this song for his wife.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=wAsPu-FTBsw>


	3. Staccato

3—Staccato

“Every time I think of you, I always catch my breath.”—John Waite

(Lucius)

Lucius smoothly slid his hand from Snape’s crotch and rose defensively when he heard the rustle of movement from the stacks. He was relieved to see Draco appear but was flummoxed by his date du jour. Granger? He thought that bushy-haired brain was just Draco’s friend. They weren’t shagging, were they? Draco’s arm was slung around her shoulders in a manner that could have been interpreted as either friendly or possessive; but she looked absolutely wretched, as if she longed to be free of the weight.

The Lucius of twelve years ago never would have allowed a Mudblood in the Manor, but that Lucius was gone, eroded to nothing by the transformative winds of time and tragedy. Funny how, given the proper circumstances, some beliefs could be dismissed so easily. Blood purity became the folly of youth, a meaningless trinket that had kept his attention with its sparkle and novelty. Now it lay shattered on the ground, nothing more than rust and dust.

Azkaban and the Dark Lord had shown him where that path led, the ugliness of a world fueled by fear. Lucius didn't want any part of that. Without beauty and passion, life held no magic.

He’d had a bounty of beauty and passion with Narcissa, but in a cruel twist of fate, he'd saved his wife from a madman only to lose her to an insidious virus. When she died, half of his heart went missing, and he lost the will to thrive. It all seemed rather pointless. Blood. Money. Breathing. Who had the energy for such trivialities? He'd given in, too tired to go on. If Severus hadn't shown up when he did, Lucius might have wasted away to nothing, rotting in his room until his body gave out.

Severus. Shit.

Lucius glanced back at Snape. How much had the Granger girl seen? Even though Severus had an Order of Merlin to prove his innocence and honor, his cold attitude continued to cast a cloud of suspicion over his life. And Lucius was barely tolerated by the community at large. It would be better for everyone involved if their sex life wasn’t made public.

Hopefully it wouldn't take much muscle to secure her silence. He wasn’t in the mood to play big bad Death Eater.

"What are you two doing in here? The party is outside,” Lucius said through clenched teeth.

Draco didn't even flinch at his dark tone. "What an interesting question. Want to tell them what you were up to, Granger?"

A red tide crept up her cheeks, and she covered her face with one hand, speaking not a word but revealing her sentiments nonetheless.

Lucius arched an eyebrow. What the hell was all this about? That annoying little I’ve-got-a-secret smirk was plastered across Draco’s face like a flashing neon sign.

"She's a sneaky little spy, aren't you, Granger?"

"Draco, shut up!" she hissed.

Her irate glare just made Draco laugh. "What do you think I should do with her? Chapter three or chapter four?"

Lucius suddenly recognized the book tucked under Draco's arm. What on earth had they been doing back there? "What do you mean she's a sneaky little spy?"

Giving him that look of annoyed exasperation that children reserve strictly for their parents, Draco explained, "I _mean_ , she was very interested in what you two were doing over here."

Blast it all to hell! She had seen. Lucius needed to nip this in the bud. "Maybe you two should sit down."

"No thanks," Draco shot back. "I think I want to dance with Granger while she smells so good."

The girl slapped both hands over her face as if she wanted to disappear. That boded well for Lucius. It shouldn't take much to intimidate her if she was already uncomfortable. "You'll sit down and have a chat," he ordered in his strictest no-nonsense voice. "Go get your friend a drink."

Lucius took the witch firmly by the arm and pulled her away from his son. Draco's face flickered with hesitancy, but he stiffened his lip and stalked off without another word.

Lucius guided their uninvited undercover agent to the couch. "Why don't you sit down over here?" he suggested, his voice threateningly polite as he stationed her in the middle seat so she was trapped between him and Severus.

Meeting Snape's eye, he attempted to discern the other man's reaction to being discovered by a former student, but Severus hid his emotions better than a poker pro. His expression remained neutral and unresponsive. He just crossed his leg and continued to sip his bourbon as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. That was fine by Lucius. His mere presence would be enough to assure her compliance.

Lucius sat beside her and took a tense sip from his own glass. "Spying is rude, Miss Granger."

She went rigid, her hands clasped in her lap, her arms clenched like steel strings. "I wasn't trying to spy, Mr. Malfoy. I was just looking through some books."

Draco snorted from the déjeuner table where he was pouring the drinks; she flashed him a furious look over her shoulder.

Lucius couldn't imagine what was going on between them. They certainly didn't act like lovers. "You should have announced your presence."

"You couldn't smell her?" Draco muttered under his breath.

Smell her? Lucius looked at Severus, who was staring at the back of her head as if he could see into her skull. His black eyes shifted to Lucius, and he nonchalantly lifted his hand and ran one finger along the side of his enormous nose as he inhaled deeply. Lucius quirked one brow in confusion. Was that supposed to be some kind of signal? Snape dropped his hand to his crotch, and one pale finger curled back and forth in an unmistakable sexual gesture; he inclined his head toward her with a pointed look.

Ah. She was aroused by what she'd seen. So that's what had Draco so giddy. Well, this certainly made his job easier. Humiliation was much more effective than idle threats.

Draco set her drink on the table, but she just stared at it without moving.

Sinking into the chair to Lucius's right, Draco grinned at the lineup on the couch. "I don't think you need to worry about Granger, Father. As long as you let her watch, she'll keep your secret till the end of time."

Lucius studied their poofy-haired peeping tom. She was trembling with anxiety. Or embarrassment. Or anger. Sliding to the edge of the seat, Lucius set his drink on the coffee table and, as he drew back his hand, grazed his fingers along the side of her knee. She stopped breathing. Good. He had her attention. This was his insurance policy. Gossip was easy to avoid if the witness was too ashamed to talk. The redder her face got, the more secure their secret would remain.

Spreading his legs, he pressed his knee against hers. "Is that what all this is about?" he purred. "A little curiosity?"

Her throat worked as she struggled to swallow, and her eyes locked on his knee with a look of flustered fear.

He slid his hand up his own thigh, brushing the side of her leg with his pinky as he ascended. "Did you like what you saw?"

She stared at his hand as if it were a viper rearing back to strike.

Slowly, he crossed over to her thigh, inch by agonizing inch. He could feel the heat of her body radiating through her dress. Hmmm, no reason he couldn’t enjoy this little game of cat and mouse. How much would it take to scare her away? Resting his palm on her leg, he gave her a light squeeze. "Were you enjoying my book before we came in? If that's what you're into, perhaps I should show you how naughty little spies are punished in this house."

Her eyes went wide, but her gaze never left his hand. She gradually unclenched her fists and clutched the front of her shrug as if she were cold—but he recognized a surreptitious sweaty hand blot when he saw one. Lucius bit his tongue to hide his smile. She was about to bolt. If he ever saw her blushing face in his house again, he'd be shocked. There was no way she’d mention this to anyone.

Sliding his hand up her thigh, he ventured into overtly inappropriate territory. "Whose knee would you prefer to be over first, mine or Snape's?"

Her chest sharply rose and fell as her respiration went into overdrive. _Go on, little mouse. Scamper away. Maybe Draco will run after you and make you feel better._ "If you take your spanking like a good girl, I'll let you suck on my cock while Severus turns your backside red." He curled his hand in toward her cunny. _Three. Two. One. Run._

She opened her legs.

Lucius arched one brow. _Brave little mouse, aren't you?_ _Let's just see how brave you really are._ "Get over my knee, girl," he growled. "Skirt up.”

She stared at him, panting like a dog in heat. _Oh, you're hard up, aren't you, Granger? Hasn't anybody been taking care of your prissy little pussy?_ Without warning, she abruptly threw herself over his lap; he scarcely had time to register what she was doing. _You horny little minx!_

"Hey!" Draco protested. "Get up, Granger. He's not serious."

Lucius sneered at him. "Either sit down and shut up, or get _out_!"

Draco snapped his mouth closed and settled back into his chair with an icy glare.

Lucius brushed his hand up the back of her leg, pushing her skirt up over her bum. The briefest pair of black lace panties shadowed her curvy backside. "How sweet. She's wearing your color, Severus."

Severus cocked one brow, but otherwise, his face betrayed nothing. He sipped his drink as if he were bored. _Right. When was the last time you saw an_ _arse_ _like this? Don't act as though this isn't turning you on._

She'd heaved herself into place without forethought, and he would be restricted to using his left hand due to her direction. That should be fine. He could be ambidextrous when it was necessary. Her bum was too lovely for such paltry regrets. Each little clench of anticipation that ran through her buttocks had his cock twitching in harmony. This was going to be outstanding. _So you think you're ready to play with the big boys. We'll see._

Drawing back his hand, he brought it down with a smart smack on her right cheek. The impact rippled through her flesh, and she gasped in surprise. Her buttocks flexed as the sting surfaced, but after a few seconds, she relaxed and pushed up her arse for more. Lucius almost laughed. No wonder Draco fancied this one.

_Smack!_

Another tidal wave bounced through her bum, and she rolled her hips in a tight circle before arching up in offering. Sweet Circe! What an invitation. That backside was going to be rosy red before he passed her off to Snape.

_Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!_

_Bloody hell, look at that wobble_. Narcissa fancied a slap on the arse in the throes of passion, but rarely did she allow him to really spank her. He'd been missing out. This was fabulous.

 _Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!_  

_Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!_

Lucius had never been a fan of pink before, but he was beginning to see the allure. He sped up, laying into her jiggly cheeks with no pause. Her body rocked against his thigh, her hips bucking and wiggling under the growing heat. Shocked pain and pleasure colored her cries, but it was the pleasure that caught his libido's attention.

After another twenty sharp slaps, he hooked his fingers in her waistband and began to draw her knickers over her hips, going slowly to see if she panicked. "I think we'll have these down now."

Not only was there no protest, she actually lifted her hips to assist in the divestment. What a surprising guest Granger was turning out to be. 

Peeling her panties below her backside, he grinned at her glowing posterior. Gorgeous. Lucius rolled her knickers down her thighs until the gusset was prised from her crevice. Turning the crotch inside out, he smirked at the creamy smear soaking the center. "Would you look at that, Severus?"

Her legs snapped shut to hide her reaction, but Lucius used both hands to pry them apart. "No, no, no," he said, chuckling. "Naughty witches keep their legs open when they get a spanking. Show us everything, girl."

There was a second of hesitation, but then her legs spread wide, giving them a glimpse of her glistening fissure. Lucius met Snape's eye with a wicked grin. "I don't think she needs these knickers at all, do you?"

Snape just glanced at her glazed gusset and took another indifferent sip of bourbon.

"Of course not," Lucius answered for him. "Lift your hips, Miss Granger. I'll take these off for you."

She piked her body, displaying even more of her creamy charms, and Lucius pushed her panties down her legs and removed them with a flourish. One deep breath had him surrounded in a haze of feminine arousal. Oh gods. He hadn't smelled that heavenly aroma since he'd last been with Narcissa. His brain flooded with images of her blonde sex spread before him like a pussy platter. An ice pick of memories pierced his heart, and he grimaced at the pain. His sweet angel. He could almost feel the warmth of her downy thigh against his cheek, feel her fingers tearing at his hair as she came. His chest tightened with sorrow and longing, and his lips tingled with the ghost of kisses long past, never to be felt again. _Miss you. So much_.

He set Granger's knickers on her empty seat and stroked her arse. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed a woman's attributes. Severus provided the sex and physical touch he needed to stay sane, but . . . Snape wasn't exactly soft and warm. Well, he was warm—scalding to be precise. But he was about as cuddly as a rhinoceros. While he liked having Snape's strength pressed against him, there was something missing with Narcissa gone. It wasn't just the love, which was heartbreaking enough; it was the way she wrapped him in her arms and melted around him. She accepted him, made him a part of her. Now he had no outlet for all the romantic nonsense blustering about in the pit of his belly. He felt a bit useless with no one to care for.

"Take her for me, Severus." He needed some air. And maybe another drink. All this reminiscing made his stomach hurt. "Teach her a lesson she won't forget." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Staccato—sound or note sharply detached from the next. Clapping hands are staccato. (As is spanking.)
> 
> "Missing You" by John Waite. 1984. Written by John Waite, Mark Leonard, and Chas Sandford. Waite was nominated for a Grammy (Best Male Pop Vocal Performance) for the song.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=K5J1mn_u0rM>


	4. Timbre

4—Timbre

“The sounds of silence.”—Simon and Garfunkel

(Severus)

Severus slid across the leather and settled into her abandoned seat. He wanted to get her in the perfect position, because he intended to enjoy this spanking to the fullest extent. All those years of hand-waving and endless textbook recitations would finally be given their proper due.

But that had been ten years ago. An entire decade. Surely she’d matured beyond such behavior. This was no schoolgirl. That arse alone was a testament to the glories of womanhood. Perhaps she had finally left behind the swottiness of her youth. Or perhaps she'd begun fucking her books instead of memorizing them. It was obvious she'd been up to more than reading behind those shelves.

Lucius helped her up and then spun her around, urging her to bend over Snape’s lap. She didn't cringe or protest, so the prospect of receiving a spanking from him must not have been too repulsive. He wasn't sure yet if she was a Malfoy groupie or just a horny spanking enthusiast. Her willingness suggested the latter.

Severus pushed up her skirt and nodded approvingly at Malfoy's handiwork. She'd been primed for further coats, and he planned to paint that backside red. Lucius may have been playing with her, but Severus took his work seriously. A witch who offered herself up for a spanking as heartily as Granger had needed more than just some slaps and pats.

Shifting her around into a better position, Severus got her chest resting on the couch and her feet on the floor. While he forbade kicking in such a situation, he couldn't deny he liked the way she bucked and arched. That would be encouraged. Sliding his hand up the curve of her right hamstring, he delved between her thighs and pulled her leg to the side. Once again there was no hesitation; she wantonly spread her legs in the most un-Granger-like manner.

His gaze cut over to Draco, who was staring at her nether regions with the intensity of a deranged artist preparing to paint a prize-winning pussy portrait. Had he never seen this? It didn't appear so. Severus slowly palmed her upper thighs, one in each hand, skimming over her soft flesh until he found two suitable anchor points. Pulling outward, he drew her legs wider and parted her slit in the process. She gasped, and Draco's brow perked in interest. Severus smiled to himself. _That's right, Miss Granger. Give Draco something to remember_. Could he see the wet shine already gathering along her pink slit? Severus could.

After making it clear she was to remain lewdly splayed, he gave her bum a few practice pats. It wasn't a warning. He wanted her acutely aware of her position. She might get lost in the spanking, but for the moment, she should be focused on the humiliation and submission.

Lifting his hand, he paused for a second—prolonging the anticipation—then he whipped his palm across her rump with a satisfying smack. Her bottom wobbled, and a handprint bloomed on her right cheek.

"Mm!"

A bit harder. This needed to be memorable. _Smack!_

"Ow!”

Much better. He'd forgotten the adrenaline-fueled pleasures of a well-spanked witch: her hot little body writhing in his lap, her belly pumping against his leg with each nervous breath. He gave her ten more hard licks. While she continued to shout and moan, she also added an anxious hip thrust to the clapping beat. Was she seriously trying to hump his leg?

 _Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!_  

_Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!_

Oh, she was definitely trying to hump something. Horny little Gryffindor, wasn't she? He found a steady rhythm and and gave her a proper walloping.

 _SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!_  

_SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!_

The bucking became obscene.

"Ow! Please, sir," she wailed, gripping the edge of the couch in a panic of pain.

Lucius slithered around to Snape's previous seat and slid his crotch into her face. "If you can't keep quiet, I'll have to keep your mouth occupied."

Lucius lowered his zip, and Severus smirked as her body went stone still. Feeling magnanimous, he gave her a break and swiped his hand up and down her glowing globes so she could concentrate. _Still feeling brave, Miss Granger?_

Lucius grunted softly, and Severus canted his head to watch the action unfold. Lucius gathered up her hair in one hand so they could both see. Her lips hovered over Malfoy's glans, her pink tongue peeking from between the crimson petals of her lips. 

Ringing the base with her fingers to hold him steady, she cautiously descended.

As she pulled back up, her lips bulged around the ridge of Malfoy’s plumbed head. How wonderfully visceral. Pausing at the top, she inhaled, and Severus could see the shift in her jaw as her tongue worked the tip. When she dived down again, her eyes fluttered closed as if she were lost in the experience.

"That's it," Lucius hissed. "Nice and slow. Use that tongue."

Snape lent her erotic endeavors a helping hand. _Smack!_

"Mm!”

Her whimpery moan slipped out around Malfoy's dick, and Lucius's grey eyes rolled back.

_Smack!_

Snape glanced at Draco. He looked slightly pissed off that his friend was fellating his father, but it was impossible to miss that tent in his trousers.

_Smack!_

"Uh!"

"Fuck," Lucius groaned. "Don't stop."

Malfoy's hips lifted, plunging his length even deeper into her mouth. Snape's own cock struggled against his placket, fighting for freedom. Things had progressed faster than anticipated, and his balls would need to be emptied soon. But unlike Lucius, he had no intention of fucking her face. Surely her poor red bottom would need some cream after the night it’d had.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Draco gripping his dick through his trousers. Draco might hate what his father was doing to her, but he certainly didn't mind seeing it. Tomorrow's breakfast conversation should be quite interesting.

Lucius and Draco were already co-existing on a razor's edge. To say they weren't friendly would be putting it lightly. An undercurrent of steely tension crackled in the air whenever they shared the same room. Lucius, like most pureblood fathers, wanted his son to be tough and formidable. All affection had been deemed coddling. It was a cold connection. Draco had taken on a shield of arrogance and derision to protect himself, but despite his similarities to Lucius, he never earned his father's approval. And he likely never would. Lucius would always remain distant in an effort to "make a man" out of his son.

But that plan had backfired. For the past several years, Draco had gone rogue, eschewing Lucius's snobbery and pretension in favor of his own sense of self. But then Narcissa had died, and Draco had leapt off the deep end. He'd developed a surprisingly sensitive nature, which Severus guessed was overcompensation for the love he was no longer receiving from his mother. It was backlash against his father's stern dispassion.

But Severus saw how desperate Draco had become. He was shagging a new witch every week, hopping into bed with anyone who would show him an ounce of affection. That was one commonality father and son shared. They both thrived on touch. It kept them sane. But Severus could see Draco wasn’t happy. Sexual intimacy was a poor substitute for emotional support.

Severus could commiserate.

While Lucius filled Snape’s basic requirements for camaraderie, there was still a gaping hole in his life. A part of him was withering away. Something was missing. The closest he'd come to discovering that missing element was after Narcissa's death, when he'd picked up the pieces of Lucius's shattered heart.

He'd come to check on Lucius at Draco's behest, and when he arrived, he’d been shocked by his friend's appearance. Bathing had clearly not been a priority for several weeks, and he'd lost at least two stone, his muscles having given way to emaciation. There had been no word from Lucius since the funeral, and Severus had assumed he was grieving like any normal husband; but once he got a look at him, it was clear the problem went far beyond simple sadness. He was broken, a shell of the man he'd once been.

Malfoy had raged against his help, his voice croaky with disuse, yet the mad vitriol continued to spew forth unimpeded. Severus just stared at him. It was like watching a screaming skull. Lucius stormed around the room, smashing Narcissa's crystal knickknacks one by one, first by hurling them at Snape and then just slinging them to the floor in a fit of anger. Severus didn't try to stop the outburst; he sat silently on the bed while Lucius ranted and tore apart the room like a blond cyclone.

When the storm had run its course, and the floor glittered like a diamond mine, Severus went to him. For a second Lucius's body had coiled as if ready to strike, his face a rictus of suffering. Severus understood. There was no remedy for losing the love of your life. He never said a word as he slipped his arm around Lucius's neck, pulling him in and holding him tightly. In a split second, the fight went out of Lucius. He planted his face on Snape's shoulder and wept. The animal anguish of that sound struck a chord in Severus, and he held him even tighter.

The release must have been exactly what was needed, because Lucius woke the next day considerably improved. He didn't look as drawn, and the wan moue of his mouth was less furrowed and sullen. Severus stayed with him the rest of summer to make sure he got back on his feet, and when it came time for the next school year to begin, Severus felt Lucius was well on his way to recovery and left him in Draco’s care. He still came over every weekend, which was good for both of them. Lucius needed a friend and lover . . . and Severus needed the same.

And more.

It was difficult to put his finger on at first, but something had happened that summer, something that had chased the demons from his soul. It took some time before he realized what had left him feeling so different—he enjoyed taking care of someone. That was a rather jolting revelation. It felt good to be needed. Wanted. He had a purpose. It was a side of himself he'd never seen before.

He stowed away that discovery deep within. There was nothing he could do with the knowledge, and it seemed masochistic to keep ruminating on a thirst he couldn't slake. Lucius was the only outlet for what few emotions he allowed himself to have. And now that Malfoy was better, Severus was left searching for another hit of that elusive high.

This was why he needed a woman in his life. Women accepted care in ways most men couldn't. They didn't balk at a display of affection. For a long time, Narcissa had been his female refuge. She'd become his feminine crutch. But now she was gone, and he missed the balance she brought to his life. He didn't love her the way he’d loved Lily, but he cared about her deeply, and she had been his escape, a willing recipient of his softer side. Okay, _side_ was too strong a word. His softer flashes. Like lightning. But still, lightning needed grounding.

Having Granger's buttery buttocks dancing over his lap was a stark reminder of everything his life lacked. In its absence he'd forgotten the power of pussy, the fundamental differences between women's sexuality and men's. She was unbelievably soft and round, whereas Lucius was hard and sharp. Like a diamond. One moment he could make you feel like the luckiest person in the world, and the next he could be cold as ice. That didn't bother Snape. He was of a similar cut. But it was a nice change to slap an arse with some bounce to it.

And that smell. Gods! He’d completely forgotten the sweet scent of a witch in heat. The musky perfume of her sex filled his nostrils like tendrils of opium. What had gotten their little Gryffindor so aroused? Was it the exhibitionism of her position or the sting of his hand? Or was she dripping at the sight of Lucius's thick erection? It _was_ mouthwatering.

_Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!_

Her lips shone with saliva, leaving Malfoy glittering with her efforts. The firelight cast a warm glow over his shaft so every vein stood out in high relief on one side. Granger's mouth popped over each ridge, following the glide of her hand, and Severus could tell Lucius was about to blow. His breathing always became staggered as he approached the finish line. Slapping her bum a little harder, Severus encouraged a much louder moan from her mouth. Lucius would enjoy that.

Lucius’s eyelids sank lower, and he tipped back his head, baring his teeth at the ceiling as he hissed through a grimace of pleasure. His blond hair fanned over the black leather, and Snape watched his face as he came.

"That's it, girl. Swallow it all," Malfoy murmured, his hips ticking toward her mouth on the beat of his release.

Snape waited for Lucius to go still before he slowed the spanking to a stroll. When the last deep sigh slipped from Malfoy’s aristocratic mouth, Severus returned his attention to the backside draped across his lap. Tracing his fingertips over her roasted cheeks, he tested the heat and color while she caught her breath.

Her head rose, and Severus heard the heavy panting of a job well done. Granger may have been an annoying student, but no one could ever say she didn't work hard for what she wanted. He appreciated that effort.

And that arse.

"Now it's Severus's turn," Lucius announced. "You fancied his spanking, didn't you?"

"Uh . . . yes."

Snape patted her arse and gave Malfoy a pointed nod. _You know what I want_.

"Let Severus, up, Miss Granger," Lucius said, smirking at Snape's obvious intention. "No, no, no. Keep licking my dick. I don't want to have to bathe again tonight. Clean me up while Severus puts some cream on your arse." 

Awkwardly, Hermione got to her feet while keeping her face buried in Lucius's lap. She propped one knee on the seat and stuck out her bum. Severus couldn’t help smirking at the baboon-like nature of her display—although it might have been her red rump that inspired that train of thought just as much as her posture.

Severus quickly unbuttoned his fly, and relief flooded through him as his flesh found the freedom it had been craving for the past twenty minutes. He eased his boxers over his protruding prick and grabbed hold.

Pumping himself with one hand, he wiped his leaking tip over her glowing posterior—back and forth, up and down, painting her with the glistening promise of impending release.

She arched her back and whimpered softly, a cooing of excitement. The arch parted her pussy, and Severus leaned back to get a better view. Bloody hell. The fire made her slit sparkle. Even her thighs were damp. He threw Lucius and impressed glance, and Malfoy snickered.

"Did somebody enjoy her spanking?" Lucius taunted. "Try not to leave a puddle on my rug. It's imported."

Severus wanted to see more. Placing his fingertips on her left cheek, he pulled it to the side, exposing her furrow to the light. She gasped, but her tiny brown pucker gave him a saucy wink of approval. The arch in her back became desperately deep, and she rolled her hips in search of friction. His sac surged with pre-ejaculatory tension, and he gave in to the rush, pumping faster and pushing himself over the edge. The first stream shot up her lower back, but the rest spattered her buttocks in several starbursts of creamy semen. He stayed silent through each propulsive ejection, never giving voice to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his cock, but he could feel Lucius’s eyes studying every tic and twitch. Malfoy didn't need moans or grunts to identify the peak of Snape’s arousal. They knew each other too well.

Malfoy’s white teeth flashed in a sly smile. "If you ask nicely, I'm sure Severus would give your poor pussy a helping hand."

"Ah . . . um . . ." she hemmed and hawed, then cleared her throat several times. "Please . . . uh . . . will you . . . help me, sir?"

Snape smirked at Lucius and shook his head.

Malfoy gathered up her hair again. "That wasn't good enough. Say 'Thank you for spanking me, Professor Snape. My pussy's so wet. Please will you make me come.'"

Severus choked back a snort. Lucius was going to make sure she never lived this down.

"Th-thank you for spanking me, Professor Snape," she repeated quietly. "My . . . my pussy's so wet. Please will you . . . make me come?"

He nodded and slipped two fingers into her sodden slit.

"Ah!"

Galloping gorgons! She wasn't just dripping wet, her inner tissue was so engorged it was like sticking his fingers in a cunt cuff. Her muscles squeezed around the intruders as if she wanted to break his bones. He turned his palm to the floor and felt for the swelling of her g-spot. There it was. Holy fuck. The saturated sound of his fingers slogging through her sex rang through the room. His thumb found her clit, and she immediately began to tremble.

"Oh God!"

The firmer his pressure got, the harder she quaked. This was bloody breathtaking. His seed still shimmered on her rump, and while he enjoyed the visual, he wanted to leave her with something lasting. Smoothing his free hand over her bum, he massaged his release into her quivering backside. She might take a shower later, but until then, she'd have a tactile memento to remember him by. The prim and proper swot wouldn't soon forget her adventure in the snake pit.

"Oh . . . oh gods. Shit!"

Severus tore his eyes from the glow of her glutes to laugh with Lucius. But Lucius wasn't watching him; his gaze was low, focused on something Snape hadn't noticed at first glance. Hermione's hand clutched Malfoy's, holding on for dear life. Lucius was staring at their joined hands as if he'd never seen such a sight. He looked dazed. Mesmerized. His grey eyes darted to her face, and Severus saw him squeeze her hand in return. He had a feeling Lucius was just as stunned by her femininity as he himself had been earlier.

Pressing her clit firmly, but slowing the speed, Severus watched the intensity grow on his friend's face as Granger hit her peak.

Her sheath contracted, and a stream of juice pulsed from her folds, running over his fingers and trailing down her leg. "Unnnnnnnh! Severus!"

Most people didn't dare use his first name . . . let alone scream it in ecstasy. Her cries echoed in his head on a lustful loop.

"Fuck!" she panted. "Thank you, sir!"

Lucius looked up from their clasped hands and met Snape's eye.

 _Oh yes, I heard her._ As if his balls hadn't already gotten enough of a workout, that emphatic _sir_ punctuating her grateful thanks had his scrotum tightening with rapture. Did she always finish a good orgasm with a submissive declaration of praise? Bloody hell, maybe he didn't know Granger at all.

She continued to clutch Malfoy's hand, but she dropped her forehead to his chest as she caught her breath. Lucius stared at her blankly, his thumb brushing the back of her hand in a soothing circle.

Severus massaged the last of his semen into her skin then slowly slid his digits from her stuttering sex. Lifting his fingers to his lips, he breathed in the bouquet of her ambrosia, and his tongue snaked out to lap it up before her cream had time to cool. _Fuuuuuck_. She tasted even better than she smelled.

Lucius caught his eye, and Severus nodded. _I know. She's more than I suspected too_. He had to give her something in return, some small gesture to convey how much he’d enjoyed her . . . company. 

Inclining his head, Severus ran his finger over the curve of her bottom, memorializing the site of his sticky signature. “You're welcome, Miss Granger." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timbre—The character of quality of a musical sound or voice as distinct from its pitch and intensity. (Snape's voice has a dark timbre.)
> 
> "The Sound of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel. Written by Paul Simon in 1963-64. "The Sounds of Silence" was released as an acoustic version in 1964 on S and G's debut album. Up against bigger names of the time, the album tanked, and S and G broke up. When the song started getting a following on the radio, Columbia records added the electric instrumentation. (The remix was done without S and G's knowledge.) The song went to number one, and S and G got back together (at least for a little while) and recorded their second album, which featured the remixed "The Sound of Silence" and was named after it to capitalize on its success.  
> [https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=4&v=4fWyzwo1xg0](https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=4&v=4fWyzwo1xg0)


	5. Duet

5—Duet

"Body and beats, I stain my sheets; I don’t even know why.”—Violent Femmes

(Draco)

To say Draco was shocked would have been a gross understatement. Utter bewilderment rocked him to the core. It wasn’t every day you discovered your kind-hearted crush was secretly a sex goddess. Scratch that. A _kinky_ sex goddess. A kinky sex goddess who could make him come without a single touch. It didn't matter that she was screaming another man's name. Just the sloppy sound of her pussy was enough to send his cock into paroxysms of delight. The semen in his shorts was already cooling, leaving him shivering in a pool of clammy shame.

He’d left his wand on the table by the bourbon, so he was trapped in jizz jail until further notice.

Snape tucked himself away and buttoned his trousers without a word. If Draco hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would have guessed the man had just come; his breathing was calm and collected, and his face was as animated as stone. Did nothing crack that concrete façade?

If Draco had been the one basting her arse like that, he would have been collapsed on the floor in a come-coma of contentment, a huge smile plastered across his unconscious face.

Snape, however, was the personification of detached cool. Draco had always admired that about him. If he had an ounce of that man's “brooding mystery," he’d be neck deep in pussy every weekend. But for some reason, Snape didn’t capitalize on his strengths. He spent his weekends at the Manor, usually in Lucius’s bed. Draco could suddenly see why his father was so enamored with the pale Potions master. Despite his sneering sarcasm and puritanical frock coat, Severus Snape had a certain _je_ _ne_ _sais_ _quoi_ when it came to sex.

Carnal curiosity sparked his imagination, but Draco stomped out the flame before it could catch hold. Fucking wizards was fun, but all the men he’d slept with lacked the soft succor he so desperately sought; so while his libido may have been intrigued by the thought of naked Severus, his damaged heart knew better. Snape was about as soft as a porcupine, and Draco didn’t want to get stabbed.

That same sense of self-preservation had kept him from any dangerous actions involving Hermione as well; but now look what his reservation had wrought. Instead of risking his pride and just admitting how he felt, he’d teased her like a five-year-old and wound up the odd man out. Instant karma. Now he’d have to pry her away from his father and undo whatever damage he’d caused. Would she ever forgive him for this? Just because she’d volunteered for a spanking and then came all over the carpet didn’t mean she wasn’t humiliated.

She hadn’t even tried to get up yet—probably too embarrassed to pull her face from Lucius’s chest. Or let go of his hand.

Draco saw red. That should be him holding her hand like that. Lucius was too old for her. She needed someone young and fun. Someone whose heart wasn’t as black as coal. Someone who wasn't a perverted lech.

 _Who are you calling a pervert?_ his brain demanded. _I didn’t see you objecting when he shoved his cock in her face._

Fair enough. He was a coward and a horrible friend. He’d been infuriated by the sight of her head bobbing over his father’s lap, but he’d stayed silent out of crude selfishness. The similarities between Lucius and himself were difficult to ignore, and some small part of him needed to know what she’d look like with her lips wrapped around his knob. In his mind, Lucius had disappeared, and Draco had seen himself on the couch, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his hand wrapped in her hair.

He hated himself for that. He should have said something, done something, saved the day. But Draco was no hero. He was just a fucked up wizard with some serious intimacy issues . . . pining for a witch who probably thought he was a puerile playboy.

_I should have taken her back out the side door as soon as I found her. This never would have happened._

_But then you would have missed_ _The Great Hermione Granger and her Precipitation-Prone Pussy._ Draco licked his lips, eyeing her glistening thighs as he imagined himself as her personal cleanup crew.

“Did you want to show Miss Granger your talents?” Lucius asked, as if reading his thoughts.

Surprised that he was offering, Draco accidentally let his defenses drop. His face must have betrayed his panic, because Lucius’s eyes immediately contracted to a pinpoint of focus, studying Draco with the all-knowing scrutiny of a suspicious parent.

“Did you come on yourself?” Lucius said with a sneer of disgust. “What have I told you about control?”

Draco glared at him. _Shut up, old man._

Sighing deeply, Lucius shook his head. “We’ll discuss it later. Why don’t you take Miss Granger to the lavatory and help her clean up. Clean yourself up as well.”

Draco didn't argue. He wanted to get her out of there as quickly as possible and make sure she was all right.

Uncomfortably, he rose, mentally attempting to unstick his shorts from his pruning prick. “Come on, Granger.” He brushed her skirt back into place and slid his hand around her waist. “Get your knickers and let’s go.”

Lucius used his free hand to pluck her underwear from the couch cushions. “I don’t think so. These are mine now. She forfeited them when she got over my lap. Didn’t you, Miss Granger?”

Her eyes darted from their joined hands to the black satin dangling from his finger. “Uh . . . sure.”

Lucius grinned and smoothly maneuvered his grip, lifting her hand to his lips. “Don't let my son's juvenile restraint lead you to believe all the Malfoy men are lacking. It would be my _pleasure_ to have you here again sometime.” And with that lascivious invitation, he kissed the back of her knuckles, throwing Draco a triumphant—but derisive—smirk.

Draco clenched his teeth and dragged her away. _Unhand my witch, you fucking bastard._

Hermione stumbled into him, and Draco righted her. When he was sure she could walk, he slipped his arm around her shoulders and headed for the east door.

As they passed Severus, who was ignoring their departure, Hermione slowed. Draco wanted to warn her against speaking—Snape could be surly even under the best circumstances. He tried to keep her moving, but she planted her feet and regarded the Potions master with hesitant curiosity.

“Goodnight, Professor. It was . . . um . . . good to see you again.”

Draco didn’t expect a reply, so he was stunned when the man nodded in her direction and murmured, “Goodnight, Miss Granger,” before stalking off.

That was downright loquacious for Snape.

Draco got her moving again, snagging his wand from the table as he hurried her out to the hall.

They crossed the foyer in silence and started up the sprawling staircase. The awkwardness was deafening. Usually Draco had all kinds of things to say, but now he was at a loss. Everything sounded absolutely asinine in his head, and he didn’t think “Jolly good show,” conveyed quite the right sentiment.

They entered the guest bath, and Draco used his wand to light the lamps. He should have vanished the spunk in his pants, but he didn’t want to irritate his skin with spellwork; he was raw enough as it was.

Their eyes met in the mirror, and Hermione blushed and looked away. Draco’s heart knocked against his chest with a hollow bang. Shit. Had he ruined everything? The thought of losing her sent shockwaves of fear through his gut. 

“I’m really sorry, Hermione. I didn’t know he’d take it that far.”

She peeked up at him, her face red as a persimmon. “Take what that far?”

Had they spanked her brain loose? What did she think he meant? “That! Everything that just happened. You know why he did that, don’t you?”

Her brow crinkled with worry. “Why he . . . ?”

Oh gods, were all Gryffindors so naïve? “He wanted to make sure you kept your mouth shut about him and Snape. Now he’s got this great secret to use against you.”

“Oh.” Her face dropped, a dejected sigh of resolution seeping from her lungs. “I wasn’t going to tell anyone. Why didn’t he just ask me to keep it quiet?”

The corners of his mouth curled up. “That’s not how Slytherins work, love.”

She nodded, as if coming to grips with what she’d just done. “Well . . . this has been interesting.”

“Are you all right?”

Her eyes rose to his, and his heart skipped a beat. He so rarely go to see her from this angle; up close, the gold flakes visible in her chocolate irises.

“I’m fine,” she assured him quickly. “I’m just . . . a complete ninny. Please don’t take it personally if I never come to any of your parties ever again.”

“What!” No, no, no. He couldn’t have that. What would he do without her? “Nonsense! You can’t let him scare you off. You’ve got to get right back on the horse; show him who’s boss.” _Wait, that didn't sound right._

Her lips curved into a smile. “And just how do I do that?”

“You’ve got to act like this didn’t faze you at all, like it meant nothing. Just be cool. It’s not as if you’ve never come before.”

“Not like that I haven’t,” she muttered under her breath.

Draco snickered and put his hands on her shoulders. “You have no reason to be embarrassed. You’re the hottest thing that library has seen in years.”

Her smile lit with hope. “Really?”

Laughing, he nodded. “You made every man in the room come, didn’t you?”

Her eyes darted to his trousers, and Draco blushed, white hot heat climbing his face.

“Don’t start with me,” he warned her. “I’ve heard enough from Father.”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip as if she were biting back her giggle. “I’ve never made anyone come all over themselves before.”

Draco couldn’t help grinning at her gleeful tone. She wasn’t laughing at him, she was just delighted by the rush of sexual power. The band around his chest loosened, and with a smile of relief, he fell in step with her giddy celebration. “I promise you, you have. You just don’t know about it.”

Her teeth scraped her lip three times, and she eyed his crotch. “Could I see?”

His stomach dropped and then somersaulted gracelessly into his liver. Was she serious? “My dick or my pants?”

“Both.”

Oh gods. His erection battered his fly, demanding to be put on display. “Are you going to clean me up?”

Her curiosity morphed to wicked merriment, and she nodded wholeheartedly. “Sure. Take off your trousers.”

 _Yes, ma’am!_ Draco fumbled with his belt, his fingers outpacing his brain. _Come on, come on, come on_ _!_ Why didn’t his hands work when he needed them most?

“You want me to do that for you?”

He looked at her. Did she really need to ask? Her eyes flickered with a devilish gleam of excitement, and Draco's intestines wrenched themselves into a knot of longing. Oh gods! Was she just horny, or did she want him the way he wanted her?

Lifting both hands in surrender, Draco gave her free rein. Hermione grinned and, without even looking down, ripped open his belt in record time.

His cock gave the trick a standing ovation, cheering madly and screaming for more. _Settle down, boy. She hasn’t even gotten to the zip yet._

Her fingers curled over the top of his trousers, and she unbuttoned him with a sly smile. She needn’t be so alluring; he was already on the brink of hyperventilation. There was an unmistakable caress as she lowered the zip, and Draco resisted the urge to thrust into her hand. Uncontrollable humping might not project the image of suavity he was hoping to convey.

Instead of just pushing his clothes to the floor, she knelt before him and proceeded to peel off his pants with unbearable patience. His hard-on visibly struggled behind the black cotton of his boxer briefs, lunging for her like a caged Manticore.

Hermione looked up at him, and he almost blew his load right then and there. She was so fucking cute—those warm brown eyes, that adorable little nose. And those lips. Fucking hell. How many times had he imagined those lips kissing every inch of his body? Reality was merging with his fantasies, leaving him concerned for his sanity. This couldn’t be real. The witch he'd been dreaming about for years didn’t just suddenly drop to her knees and pull out his cock. Life didn’t work like that.

Hermione tugged down his underwear, and his cock leapt out to greet her with all the subtlety of a Labrador puppy, drooling in her face and demanding to be petted. _Way to play it cool, Dicky_. And to top off the bouncy dance number his cock had choreographed in her honor, his crotch had the good fortune of looking like a glue factory explosion. _Great. The first impression every man dreams of._

Tipping up her chin, she met his eye and smiled broadly. Draco’s heart came to a screeching halt. Okay, _actually_ great that time. She looked positively delighted by his predicament.

“I’ll get the flannel,” she said brightly and let his clothes drop to the floor with the most delicious _fwump_ he’d ever heard.

Draco waited while she got the warm water going, willing his body to calm down and not make a fool of him twice in one night.

“Is this too hot?” she asked.

If she meant sexually, the answer was hell yes. But he assumed she was referring to the water temperature. Touching the flannel with one finger, he nodded. “It’s fine.”

After wringing out the excess water, she covered her hand with the cloth and turned to him. “Hold up your shirt for me.”

Eager to do her bidding, he quickly unbuttoned the whole thing so it wouldn’t be in her way.

Hermione smiled and started at the top of his pelvis, wiping through his blond pubic hair and skating down toward his sac. _Baaaaah_ _!_ She was killing him. His entire body trembled with suppressed desire, and his dick decided it was time to do its infamous impersonation of a towel rack—probably for her flannel-hanging convenience. Very accommodating.

She cupped his balls in the warmth of the cloth, soaking away the remaining stickiness. His knob showed its thanks by poking her in the arm and leaving a smear of gratitude across her skin.

When she draped the flannel over his length and started to gently pump, he lost his grip on the physical realm for several seconds. His belly bellowed in and out, a dead giveaway he'd surpassed his arousal limits. The room began to spin, his axis of awareness orbiting his cock until he no longer knew where her fingers ended and his body began. He'd never experienced a transcendent hand job before. 

"Bloody hell," he groaned. "You’re way better at this than I imagined."

"You imagined me wanking you with a flannel?"

He smirked. "No. Just regular wanking."

"You've thought about me before?"

This seemed like an opportune moment to confess. His dick was already spilling his secrets like a stool pigeon. "Of course I've thought about you before."

She looked thoughtful, which was vastly better than the indignation he was expecting. "What do you think about?"

"Mmmmmm . . . lots of things,” he said evasively.

"What's your favorite?"

He sighed. His fantasies were fertile ground for embarrassment. "Promise you won't laugh?"

“I promise."

Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the ceiling. "I . . . imagine you . . . coming in when I'm sleeping on your couch and waking me from a bad dream." 

He glanced down to check her reaction.

She didn't seem to think that was odd, so he continued.

"You kiss me awake and stroke my chest until I calm down. Then you curl up next to me and tell me it's going to be all right . . . usually with your hand down my boxers."

There was split second where he could swear she looked sad, but then she was moving closer, wrapping her free arm around his waist so she was flush with his side. Her masterful wanking continued, and she kissed his chest before resting her cheek against his heart. "How many times have you thought about that?"

"Every time I sleep on your blasted lumpy couch with your God-awful itchy afghan."

She snickered. “Why didn't you ever say anything before?"

"We're friends; I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

"It sounds like you need someone to hug you."

He did, but after the humiliation of earlier, he didn’t want to give her the impression that he wasn't man enough.

Ignoring his silence, she hugged him closer. "Wanting affection isn't anything to be ashamed of."

As the rest of his organs melted to soggy mush, his heart, ever the contrarian, slammed into his chest like a sledgehammer. Gods this was awful. Blissfully awful. Dying could not be this horrifying.

Then, amidst the mind-numbing terror, his mouth started speaking without consulting his brain, "What if that's not all I want?"

She looked into his eyes. "What else do you want?"

His heart was definitely going to explode. Which would blow first, his balls or his left ventricle? "I want to kiss you."

"Really? After what I did downstairs?"

 _Bollocks!_ He'd forgotten about that. But then she licked her lips, and his brain said _sod it_. "He came down your throat, didn't he?"

She nodded.

Sliding his hand along the side of her face, he bent to reach her. "I wasn't planning on going that deep."

Her grip on his cock tightened as their lips met. When her tongue slipped against his, a rippling shudder of warmth skittered down his spine. His arm flexed, and he locked her to his side. _Mine. Please._

The slick swirl of her rolling through his mouth left him reeling. His balls ascended, and he groaned as his length pulsed in her fist. _Oh gods!_ His hips jerked involuntarily, and he came in the wet folds of the flannel, his balls thumping in time with his heart.

Through some miracle of physics, he managed to remain standing, and when his cock finally dropped in exhaustion, he pulled his lips from hers to catch his breath. "Bloody hell, Granger. From now on we skip the pub and go straight to your couch."

She smiled. "Feel better now?"

Better? His chest had been cracked open like an Augury egg, and his heart felt all tingly and itchy. Like her afghan. He hadn't felt so good since he was a child. "You have no idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blister in the Sun" by Violent Femmes. 1983. Written by Gordon Gano. In a 2013 interview with Kory Grow of The Village Voice, Gano claimed the song wasn’t about masturbation. “So it's not about masturbation? Gano: Not to me! [Laughs] But I can see where people could get that idea. I just hadn't thought of that. [Laughs] I don't think anybody likes that song because they think the lyrics are deep.”
> 
> Well, too late now, Gano. That song will forever be a pivotal addition to the wanking zeitgeist.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=8YdQBkxf4kU>  
>    
> Duet--A duet is a musical composition for two performers in which the performers have equal importance to the piece.--Wikipedia


	6. Encore

6—Encore

“When I think about you, I touch myself.”—Divinyls

(Hermione)

Wet. How was she so fucking wet? The crass squish of her own juices rang through the room, her middle finger playing a sodden solo that built in tandem with her arousal.

Rolling to her back, Hermione stared at her bedroom ceiling, watching the rolling lights of passing cars dance across the pocked plaster. After the night she’d had, she didn’t think she’d need her usual dose of masturbation sleep-solution, but her clit refused to calm down. Her mind was wide awake, replaying library highlights on a never-ending loop. Lucius. Severus. Draco. Lucius, Severus, Draco. LuciusSeverusDraco. Her body had certainly enjoyed the adventure, but her mind raced, bouncing from one thought to the next, bombarding her with questions and concerns, motives and memories.

Turning to the side, she ran her fingertips over her bum. Plenty of memories there—some of them hot and some them sticky. Draco had offered to de-spunk her with the flannel, but she told him she’d just wash it off in the shower when she got home. She was a filthy liar. That cream was hers now. No way she was just going to rinse herself off and act as if the night hadn’t happened. Things like this never happened to her; she wanted to hold on to the memorabilia as long as she could.

For now, the spanking was fresh on her skin, warm and sore; and Snape’s spunk preserved the pink glow in a dull glaze of stiff semen. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the warmth of his velvet glans trailing over her backside, the spatter of his release as it roped off her arse like an exhibit. A shiver rolled up her spine, and Hermione smiled to herself. She’d forgotten how good it felt to be desired.

And she had been desired, if only briefly, by not one man, but three. In the heat of the moment, the blunt physicality and heady excitement had commanded her full attention; but when it was over, she couldn't figure out whether she'd imagined the spark between them or if that was just the story she was telling herself to justify her actions. She had no issue with casual sex or one night stands; it was just that after such a lengthy stretch of solitude, she was starting to doubt her feminine charms.

She hadn’t dated anyone worth shagging in years. Years. Fuck. How had she let this side of herself languish for so long? Sure, she had plenty of solo fun—maybe too much solo fun if her erotica shelf’s dwindling capacity was to be believed—but that was her secret side. She wasn’t ashamed of her libido, but she did have to maintain a certain amount of propriety to be taken seriously at the Ministry. Women with strong sex drives weren’t lauded as assets in the political world. If anyone suspected Hermione Granger was anything less than pure gold, she’d be risking not only her credibility but her dreams of equality for all magical creatures.

So much rode on her work ethic that she’d let her personal life wither to a whisper. But the more she stifled her sexuality, the louder it roared when she let it loose.

Tonight she’d loosed a scream of defiance and given voice to one fantasy, bringing it to life with a moment of mindless bravery. 

Logically she knew that the threat of spanking should have been met with outrage and indignation, but her body had decided the appropriate response was copious lubrication and the utter abandonment of all pride. At the mere suggestion of punishment, she’d thrown herself over Lucius's lap like some deranged sex fiend, her pussy washing away her logic on a riptide of arousal. She’d been staring at the oriental carpet before she realized what she’d done. But once there, her heart hammering, her body trembling, she hadn’t regretted her impetuosity for even a second.

Lucius knew exactly what he was doing, and his teasing domination elicited an unexpected sense of freedom in her soul. He wanted to see her dripping with humiliation and excitement, and just knowing that he was turned on by her passion had given her permission to let go, to give in to her needs for one night of naughty fun.

She’d been fantasizing about being over someone’s knee for ages; but she never thought Lucius Malfoy would be the person to make her dreams come true. Not in a million billion years. He was always so distant and cold, but now, in a complete turnaround, she saw that he wasn't an icy enigma, he was Luscious Lucius, the man who had transformed her fantasies into reality. Even if she could never give voice to her gratitude, she would be forever indebted to him for introducing her to the wonders of a warmed arse. He'd exceeded her expectations in the most perverse ways, fulfilling her desire for dominance with a sensual flair she hadn’t anticipated. 

It was a good thing Lucius had gone first, easing her into the experience, because Snape had hurtled past pleasant and skipped straight to intense. In less than thirty seconds, he'd pushed her to her limits both mentally and physically.

Strangely though, she liked that. Once she got over the initial fear, it had been rather liberating to hand over control, to give in to her secretly submissive side. Her focus had become razor sharp, and she’d reveled in the peacefulness of that acute awareness. Her life was sorely lacking in brain breaks, and Snape had silenced her chattering mind with one slap. The man was a genius.

Hermione smacked her bum to reawaken the sting and rediscover the still spot in her soul. “Mm!”

Her pussy expelled another shot of honey, and she slipped a finger inside to staunch the leak. Smiling, she turned her face to the pillow and imagined being back over Snape’s lap, Lucius’s cock waving in her face.

Tasty, tasty cock.

Her eyes snapped open. _When did I become so enraptured by dangly bits?_ Sure, she appreciated a nice erection and what it could do to her, but she’d never drooled with hunger at the sight of a bouncing boner.

Until that night.

Apparently the Malfoy men actually _were_ God’s gift to women. Lucius was thick and strong, his girthy glans filling her mouth like a song. There was a slight upward curve to his shaft that made her g-spot weep with longing. And he tasted like salted fucking caramel. Emphasis on the fucking. She’d been hooked after just one lick. No man should be that irresistible.

Draco had been equally impressive. He wasn’t as wide as Lucius, but he was a touch longer. Elegant was the first word that had popped into her head. Hermione never thought she’d describe some bloke’s tackle as elegant, but she couldn’t deny the artistry involved. It was the cock of an angel. And he’d been so warm. So alive. She’d forgotten the power rush of having a hot, hard man in her hands.

She wasn’t sure what Snape was working with since he’d been behind her, but she’d felt a sizable bulge in his trousers when she’d been over his lap. Once again, Snape was shrouded in mystery, which sent her imagination reeling into the stratosphere. What was his wand like? Thick like Lucius? Long like Draco? Did he taste like caramel too? Smell like confectionary cock? Her curiosity wouldn’t let the matter drop.

 _He probably smells like mothballs and metal cauldrons_. She snorted to herself before bursting into riotous laughter as she realized the perverse perfection of his Potions master title. Master indeed. Her schoolroom fantasies would have both a new subject and teacher.

“Oh no, Professor Snape, I forgot my homework again. Please don't pull down my knickers in front of everyone,” she said in her breathiest bombshell voice.

‘ _Stop begging, you forgetful child. You know the punishment for not turning in your work. Lift your skirt_.’

Hermione snickered into the pillow. If Snape spankings had been added to the Potions syllabus, she would have been mowing down her classmates to get to the dungeons early.

Curling her fingers, she attempted to touch herself the way Snape had, but her fingers were woefully inadequate. She had neither the reach nor the dexterity to do the job properly. Perhaps it was time for a field trip to Hogwarts; she needed some “hands-on” tutelage.

Cackling madly at her own absurdity, she stowed away that fantasy for another night. It would come in handy after a long day at the office.

But on a less ridiculous note, perhaps she _could_ enlist Draco’s help; he seemed eager to _lend a hand_. At least that was what she’d garnered from his comments concerning her couch. He was serious, wasn’t he? Before that night she’d never thought of him as anything other than friend, but now sexy Draco was a real possibility. While her toys were fun, she missed the warm weight of a real man on top of her, crushing her as he drilled away her loneliness. If his kissing was anything to go by, Draco would make an excellent lover. He was self-assured and skilled—and his tongue had left her drowning in a sea of lust.

But while her pussy had been awed by his tongue’s talent, her heart had been struck by his soft grey gaze. There was something vulnerable there, something hopeful. She’d been quite taken by his honesty. That confession about his fantasies was heartbreakingly sweet, and she vowed to be more affectionate with him in the future. On Monday she’d hug the hell out of him and offer him a standing reservation for tea and sympathy. She’d wait and see how he reacted before volunteering anything more physical.

Sex was something a witch had to build up to.

She brought her fingers to her lips and sucked them the way she’d sucked Mr. Malfoy. Her brain flashed back to Lucius kissing her hand, and she squeezed her thighs together as the memory produced another surge of excitement. Bloody hell, that man sure knew how to say goodbye. No one had ever kissed her hand before, and she hadn’t realized how depraved the gesture really was. Why was this practice considered genteel? It had to have been one of the most erotic moments of her life. When his lips had touched her knuckles, he didn’t just peck her sweetly; the wet inner rim of his lips skimmed her skin like satin, and just for an instant, she’d felt the warm slide of his tongue licking the salt from her flesh. He might as well have said “I want to fuck you.” It would have been less suggestive.

And she’d given that man her knickers. Merlin only knew what he might be doing with them, but it turned her on just knowing he had them, that he _wanted_ them. Maybe he was in bed that very instant, sniffing her gusset and thinking about what they'd done.

Oh gods! It was probably best if she didn’t start fantasizing about her friend’s father. She was just setting herself up for trouble. But it was impossible to silence her insane brain. It insisted bad boys tasted better and then demanded another helping of candy cock— _nom_ _nom_ _nom_ _._

 _Stop!_ she admonished herself with a deranged giggle. _You’re just making yourself mental. You’re never going to know if Lucius is a knicker sniffer, and you’re never going find out if Snape’s junk smells like frock coats and cauldrons. Draco might want to shag you. Maybe. But that’s it. Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape were just playing with you. Chalk it up to a good time and leave it at that._

 _‘You know what’s a really good time?’_ her brain asked.

_No. What?_

_‘_ _Slytherin_ _circle jerks.’_

Hermione snorted and reached back to trace the valley of her cheeks. _I never said we couldn’t use them as orgasm inspiration_.

_‘Then shove your finger up your arse, and let’s get this party started.’_

“Hear, hear.”

Picturing all three of them surrounding her like a wall of wanking sentries, she slid her spit-slicked middle finger to the hilt and wiggled it back and forth, lightly stretching her anal opening. “Yes! Fuck me, sir.”

She had no idea whom she was addressing, but any of her artificial audience members would do.

Mr. Malfoy’s haughty voice egged her on, ‘ _Dirty girls get their bottoms filled with cock. Is that what you need?’_

“Yes, sir. Please fuck my arse. I’m a dirty little girl. Teach me a lesson.”

 _‘Teaching lessons is my job, Miss Granger,’_ spectral Snape purred in her ear. _‘That_ _arse_ _belongs to me. That’s my seed all over your red bottom, isn’t it?’_

“Yes, sir.”

‘ _My cum, my bum. Spread yourself open. Let me bugger this_ _arse_ _while it’s still warm.’_

“Yes, sir!” Her muscles tensed, on the verge of climax, and she opened her mouth in a subconscious search for oral stimulation. _Damn, no more hands._ She wanted something to suck on. Twisting her face to the side, she licked her naked shoulder, pretending it was Draco’s cock. In her mind, his face contorted with pleasure, and his erection pulsed against her lips. Stream after stream of imaginary jizz shot down her throat, and Hermione whimpered around him, lost in her own world. Humping the heel of her hand, she pictured Mr. Malfoy plowing into her pussy and Snape banging into her behind.

With a muffled wail, she came. The release was rough, tearing her twat apart like an earthquake, cracking her grip on reality; and just for a moment—a single breath—she was back in the Malfoy’s library, surrounded by the smell of leather . . . and books . . . and Slytherin sex.

When she recovered, she was coated in a sheer layer of perspiration, her heart pounding painfully against her breast, her pussy thumping as if it had its own pulse.

“Holy fucking hell,” she panted. She had to blink several times to clear the sparkling bursts of light from her vision. Smiling, she took a deep breath and stroked her clit with the side of her thumb. “Let’s do that again.”

Shuddering with bliss, her body concurred. 

Fancied foursomes were quite the sleep-aid. She made it through three more rounds before the sandman lulled her into a sated slumber of sticky sanguinity and devious dreams. The smile etched on her face would have left any of her illusory lovers smirking with triumph.

She rested secure in the belief that they’d never know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I Touch Myself" by Divinyls. 1990. Written by band members Christina Amphlett and Mark McEntee, and songwriters Tom Kelly and Billy Steinberg (who also wrote such hits as "I'll Stand by You," Like a Virgin," "Eternal Flame," and "True Colors.")  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=wv-34w8kGPM>  
> Encore--A repeated or additional performance at the end of a show.


	7. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to keep the chapters even between all four characters, but there were several instances where I needed to repeat a character POV twice in a row to tell the story. This is one of those times.

7—Interlude

“I said, ‘Hey, what’s goin’ on?’”—4 Non-Blondes

(Hermione)

Work the next week was a madhouse. Hermione and her tiny team had the impossible task of not only investigating creature discrimination, but gathering all pertinent information for the Justice Department if their cases went to trial. It was more work than three people could handle, but Hermione was bound and determined not to let any creatures fall through the cracks. That usually meant working her fingers to the bone, staying late, begging for funds. Whatever it took, she’d do it.

But this week the universe had seen fit to bless her with a reprieve. Although she was frantic and flustered, Draco kept showing up and insisting she take a break for sanity’s sake. After the weekend’s confusing climax, she wasn’t sure how Draco would react come Monday morning, but she was delighted to find him just as eager as he’d been at the party.

Experiencing the full brilliance of Draco’s charms was like falling down Alice’s rabbit hole. She’d never seen anything like it. He was all flirty and chivalrous; and while she found being the center of his attention totally bizarre, it was also exciting . . . and beneficial to her mental health. The long list of “Everything That Could Go Wrong,” which she kept tacked up in her brain for safe keeping, was no match for Draco’s boyish grin. He’d spend the entire lunch hour playing footsie with her under the table and “accidentally” touching her hand; for fifty-five blissful minutes the only thing she was worried about was whether her knickers were sturdy enough to withstand the hour’s deluge. She suddenly understood why all the witches in the building had dubbed him the Ministry’s Most Eligible Bachelor. He switched on the smiles and—Bam!—you were Cinderella meeting her prince. What a high. No wonder he had a herd of women following him around like the Pied Piper of Pussy.

He never mentioned what had happened between them, and Hermione couldn’t get a read on his true intentions. Did he think she was part of his horny harem now? Did he think they were dating? Did he just want to be friends with benefits? He was being extraordinarily affectionate, which was odd but not unwelcome. When her goblin case was put to bed, she’d talk to him about what they’d done and find out what he was thinking; but for the time being, she couldn’t deal with any additional drama, so she just went with the flow.

On Friday, after hand-delivering the final evidence packet to the Justice Department, Hermione hurried back to her desk to pack up for the day. When she rounded the wall of her cubicle, she was shocked to find an origami lotus perched atop her blue blotter. 

Smiling, she bent down to inspect the flower’s crisp creases and delicate details. It was exquisite, precise and professional. Incredibly intricate. Extending her finger, she brushed one inner petal—and jumped back as it sprang to life. Flicking and flipping in a flurry of unfurling, the parchment unfolded itself, dancing over the desk like a epileptic paper airplane.

When it was flat and still, Hermione hesitantly leaned in and peered at the ostentatious penmanship. Who on earth did she know with handwriting like that? The letter seemed to have worn itself out, and when she poked it, it remained immobile, so she picked it up for closer inspection.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_I would be honored to have you for dinner this evening at the Manor. I’ve had a special menu prepared in anticipation of your company—I hope you’re in the mood to eat with your hands. Afterward, if you’re so inclined, we can adjourn to the library and reminisce. It’s been far too quiet in there since your departure. Say you’ll come._

_My mouth is already watering,_  

_Lucius_

Was he serious? That had to be the dirtiest dinner invitation ever sent. The whole thing was nothing but innuendo and double entendre. How inappropriate. She loved it.

It suddenly struck her that Lucius must have been debating the invite all week. He actually _had_ been thinking about her . . . possibly whilst wanking . . . with her knickers. _Stop it, Hermione! Don’t start that again . . . at least not here. Wait till we get home. If you start thinking about naked Lucius, you’re going to wind up letting your pussy RSVP for you, and you don’t want to do anything rash._

_Yes. Be reasonable. Just because you want to sit on his face doesn’t mean you should have dinner with him._

Her brain was right, there were many reasons to decline. Lucius Malfoy was cold and intimidating—two qualities she usually avoided in a date. But while he’d been a menace in the past, he’d been nothing but silent and somber since his wife had died. She wasn’t afraid of him, but there was still that sliver of apprehension. The man had spent the majority of his life being a dangerous knobhead. Was it really a good idea to go back for more?

Her pussy brushed off her safety concerns and assured her that Draco would never allow anything horrible to happen; it then reminded her that the real threat wasn’t heart broken ex-Death Eaters but the people surrounding her at that very instant and the gossip they spread like a contagious disease. Her reputation would be ruined if anyone found out. But it wasn’t as if Lucius was going to report her exploits to the world; he had his own secrets to keep quiet. Of course she would never stoop so low as to expose someone’s private life, but Lucius didn’t need to know that.

_So you’ve decided then? You’re just going to ignore his past so you can get laid?_

_Well, you’re a bit late, Colonel Conscience; I think I already hurdled that fence last weekend. And I didn’t hear you going on about his past when he was sliding his hand between my legs. Besides, you know he’s not like that anymore. He hasn’t made a peep since the final battle._

_Even if he is different, that doesn’t mean you are. Is this who you are now, pursuing men_ _with a history of violence? Forgiving his sins just so you can ride his cock?_

_It is a particularly nice cock._

_I thought you were supposed to be the strong one, the moral one, the one who doesn’t throw caution to the wind? Where’s the warrior who never gives an inch? Where’s the girl who fought an entire army of evil and won?_

_She’s right here! I’m still fighting every single day. Don’t I ever get a fucking break? Don’t I get to be human? Am I supposed to play Princess Prude for the rest of my life to satisfy everyone else’s expectations? Who’s to say I can’t be strong and virtuous while satisfying my sexual needs? Those things are not mutually exclusive. And don’t you pull that holier-than-thou shit with me. I was there. I know what we were fighting for, and it wasn’t to shame my desires or brand Lucius Malfoy as untouchable._

_And you saw the way he looked at me when I held his hand last weekend. Don’t tell me there was anything evil in those eyes._

_I’m sure I’ve got nothing to worry about. And Draco will be there if I need backup._

Speaking of Draco, maybe she should hustle up to his office and ask if she could go home with him. One’s first orgy would be much less nerve-wracking if accompanied by a friend. The clock struck five, and Hermione jumped into action, spurred on by the realization that she’d have to run to catch him.

Grabbing her robes and bag, she dashed down the hall and just made the lift. When she got to Draco’s office, his elderly secretary, Jeanette, had already tied on her plastic rain bonnet and was just slipping into her cloak.

“Have I missed Draco?” Hermione asked, breathless from her jog through the halls.

Jeanette smiled and tucked her scarf into her collar. “Haven’t seen him since four.”

Hermione almost smacked herself in the head. Draco had a way of sneaking out early without ever getting caught. “Right. He said something about a meeting.”

Jeanette smirked, her wrinkled lips pulling taut. “Did he? Usually on Fridays he’s in a big hurry to get home and drink cocoa in the bath . . . although I suspect cocoa is code for wanking.”

Little old white-haired ladies should never say wanking; Hermione had almost burst her sinuses with the strength of her snort. “Yes . . . well . . . he’s never offered me any cocoa, so I can’t comment either way. I guess I’ll just see him later. Have a nice weekend, Jeanette.”

Waving goodbye, Hermione hurried off to catch the lift to the atrium. It was probably best that Draco had already gone; she should take a shower and change her clothes . . . maybe “have some cocoa” to take the edge off.

When she got to her little flat, which Draco had sarcastically coined her Cupboard, Crookshanks was meowing loudly and circling his empty food dish like a hungry shark. Hermione set down her things, and as she filled his bowl, she told him about Mr. Malfoy’s invitation and how she was going out that night. Crooks gave her a less-talk-more-food look, so she left him to his Kitty Kibble and went to take a shower.

Hermione tried to let the heat of the spray pound away her day, but she was too wrapped up in her thoughts to relax. Giving up on the hydro-therapy, she turned her attention to scrubbing herself raw. Her exfoliation routine had fallen by the wayside, and she figured she’d need to buff off a few layers to find some soft skin. Once she was clean, she debated the merits of a quick go with the shower-head. An orgasm would relax her . . . but she wanted to save up all her pleasure points for a bigger reward later that night. With a sigh of finality, she turned off the water and wrapped herself in a charmed towel to keep warm while she went in search of some suitable attire.

She didn’t have that many clothes, so the decision wasn’t difficult. Most of her dresses were too work-centric for a datey dinner. She needed an outfit that said “Fuckmefuckmefuckme!” without making her look desperate—so showing up in nothing but a negligee and high heels was definitely out. Her grey sweater dress seemed promising, form-fitting yet conservative. Hermione held it up to herself in the mirror to see how it looked.

 _Nice_. Classy but not matronly.

She laid it out on the bed and went to find some erection-inspiring lingerie. That was a much longer debate. She didn’t want Mr. Malfoy nicking any more of her knickers, but she wanted to entice. Her black push up bra would give her some decent cleavage; so that at least was an easy choice. She tossed it on the bed and continued to riffle through her underwear.

Black would match her bra . . . satin . . . lace . . . microfiber . . . Bah! Who could choose? That was when she found her old garter belt stuffed in the back of the drawer. She pulled it out with a wide smile. _Very_ sexy. And tights would be far too clunky for a possible sexcapade; this was the perfect opportunity to wear something impractical. Where were those lacy-topped nude stocking she’d bought to go with it? Digging through her tights, she found them wrapped up in a pair of old pantyhose.

Pulling off her towel, she shimmed into the garter belt and checked herself in the mirror. _Ooooo_ _! You’re a naughty girl, Hermione Granger._

_You know what’s even naughtier? No knickers. Panty problem solved._

Hermione burst into giggles. She’d always wanted to Basic Instinct one of her unsuspecting dates. And even if she didn’t whip out her kitty in the middle of dinner, it would be exciting to know she was bare beneath her conservative dress.

“You ready for some fun, Muffy?”

She spread her labia to make sure she wasn’t bedecked with towel fuzz.

_All clear._

Hermione started to laugh at herself, a mad cackle of nervousness that rose up from the depths of her churning stomach and took on a life of its own. Oh marvelous! Of all the nights to lose her mind. What timing!

Pressing her hands into her belly to smash the butterflies that had erupted from her duodenum, she took a deep breath. _Okay. No reason to panic. It’s just a date. A date with the Malfoys. You see Draco every day. Nothing to be nervous about. And Mr. Malfoy is just a man . . . not a chocolate-coated orgasm filled with rainbows and puppies. Just a man._

 _‘A man with a magically delicious dick,’_ her pussy drawled. 

She looked down. _Why does my pussy voice sound like Mae West?_ She rubbed her forehead and told her brain to shut up. It was time to get ready, and here she was psyching herself out and arguing with her sarcastic snatch.

“You’ll just have to be mental later. I’m busy tonight.”

When she received no reply from any inanimate body parts, she assured herself she was quite sane and went on with her preparations—ignoring the growing tremor in her hands.

Hermione dressed quickly—refusing to dally, which would only increase the probability of panic—then headed to the bathroom to do her hair and makeup. The weather had left her mane looking like an electro-static science experiment, and she knew there was only one thing for it. Chignon.

Raking the brush through her curls, she detangled the poofy mass until it resembled a frizzy bale of hay, which did nothing to ease her mind concerning her supposed sanity. Deranged milkmaid wasn’t quite the look she was going for.

Never one to admit defeat so early in the game, Hermione cracked her knuckles and prepared for battle.

Gathering her magic clips, she twisted and smoothed her locks into a classy up-do, gnawing on her lower lip as she concentrated on her reflection. By the time she’d gotten it all arranged and magically pinned in place, her arms were trembling with exhaustion. _But it does look good_ , she told herself, shaking out her shoulders and stretching her neck. Heaving a sigh of relief that it had all gone to plan, she went to work on her makeup, shading and highlighting her face for a polished presentation. She wanted to wow them; for some reason she felt as if she had something to prove.

Maybe she just needed to be sure she was still capable of attracting a man, that she wasn’t invisible to the opposite sex. The wizards at work either treated her like one of the guys or stared straight through her. Granted she didn’t always have the time to look like a superstar, but didn’t she at least deserve a passing glance? She wasn’t a troll for Merlin’s sake.

When she took a step back to check the full effect in the mirror, she was pleasantly surprised. Usually she came off as harried and frazzled, but tonight she looked calm and sophisticated.

 _Appearances can be deceiving_ , she thought, patting the remaining butterflies and blowing out a shaky exhale.

“Crooks, I’m leaving now,” she shouted as she shoved her wand in her evening clutch and stepped into her black heels. “Don’t wait up for me.”

Crookshanks was bathing himself on the sofa like a squashy little maharajah, but he stopped to give her an appraising once over as she passed. At least she’d caught the attention of one male that night.

Warding the door behind her, Hermione started down the road. It was an unseasonably warm night, and striding along the busy streets without the weight of her cloak left her giddy with the promise of Spring. Instead of savoring the propitious weather with a leisurely stroll, she quickened her step. If she dawdled, her thoughts would wander to some improbable problem, and she’d talk herself out of the whole thing. She couldn’t go back to her flat. Not alone. Not again. She needed this.

Ducking into the nearest Apparition-friendly alley, Hermione gripped her clutch and squeezed her eyes shut, spinning in a small circle until she folded into nothingness. When she reappeared at the Malfoy’s lavish front gate, she took a moment to catch her breath and calm her stuttering heart.

 _Just relax, Hermione. You’ve got this. Draco’s right—play it cool. Cool like_ _Crookshanks_ _. I am the queen of cool, calm cats._ Standing taller, she nodded resolutely. _Right. Here we go_.

She called out the password, “Goblin Gold,” and the gate swung open with a grating groan of metal on metal.

Hermione started down the curving drive, keeping her eyes peeled for any aviary attack. Those white peacocks were creepy as hell. She couldn’t stand the way they followed her every move with their demonic eyes. And that sound they made was like something from a horror movie. Shuddering, she picked up the pace, hoping to avoid the birds.

When she got to the front door, she smoothed down her dress and patted her hair to make sure everything was as she’d left it; then she tugged the magicked bell pull and held her breath.

To her great relief, it was Draco who opened the door, but he looked positively puzzled by her presence.

“Granger? What are you doing here?”

“I invited her,” Lucius said as he descended the staircase behind Draco.

It dawned on Hermione that Lucius had intended for them to dine alone. His letter never once mentioned Draco, but her oversexed brain had turned a simple dinner into a Malfoy orgy. _Brilliant deduction, Sherlock._

Draco rapidly recovered from his shock and held open the door for her. “Come in. I didn’t know we were having company.” He cast an accusing look at his father.

Lucius was dressed nicely, if a bit casually, his crisp white shirt open at the collar. As soon as he saw her, his expression softened. “I didn’t know if you would accept my olive branch.”

Hermione swallowed down the ball of butterflies that had surged up her esophagus _. I am the queen of cool, calm cats_. “No olive branch was necessary. I . . . _came_ because I was hungry, and I trusted I’d get my fill at your table.”

One corner of Lucius’s mouth curled into a smirk. “I think you just might. Please follow me,” he said, turning on his heel and heading for the back hall. “I've already prepared the dining room for your arrival."

"Were you going to invite me?" Draco petulantly called after him.

"I suppose," Lucius drawled without looking back.

Draco rolled his eyes and put his arm around Hermione's shoulders, guiding her through the foyer. "Imagine, not inviting his own son," he muttered under his breath. "RUUuuude."

Hermione smiled and relaxed into the familiarity that was Draco. She was glad to have him by her side. While she was physically attracted to Mr. Malfoy, Draco had the distinct ability to put her at ease . . . even when her reserves of courage had run low.

Draco squeezed her arm and nodded at her to go ahead of him through the dining room’s sliding pocket door. Hermione stepped across the threshold—and froze. Snape was seated at the table, his black hole of a wardrobe sucking all the light from the room.

Oh.

Lucius hadn’t intended for this to be a private dinner at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What's Up?" by 4 Non-Blondes. 1992. Written by Linda Perry (4NB's lead singer and main songwriter, who also wrote such hits as Aguilera's "Beautiful," and P!nk's "Get the Party Started"). In 2014 she married Sara Gilbert (Rosanne's Darlene, and co-host of the talk), and in 2015 she was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame. (BTW, I think she kind of hates What's Up for being too overproduced, but I like it. Or maybe I just love her voice. Or maybe I just love singing "Haaaaaaay, haaaaaay!" at the top of my lungs. It also reminds me of middle school. Ah memories.)  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6NXnxTNIWkc>
> 
> Interlude—a musical composition inserted between the parts of a longer composition . . . —Merriam Webster
> 
> Mae West, for those who don't know, was a famous actress/sex symbol in the 30's and 40's (although she was still working into the late 70's). A comedian and screenwriter, she's known for her bawdy one liners and comebacks. (She was the writer for a lot of the movies she starred in.) As a child she performed in vaudeville, and later on stage in NY. When she began to write plays and scripts, she encountered a lot of censorship (and was even sent to jail when one of her scripts was deemed too inappropriate.) She died of stroke complications the year I was born, 1980.  
> Here's to inappropriate women everywhere <3  
> "A hard man is good to find."—Mae West


	8. Dinner Theatre

8—Dinner Theatre

“Will you be my sugar rush, make me get high with just one touch?”—Jessie J

(Draco)

Draco almost plowed into Hermione’s back when she came to a screeching halt in the doorway. He guessed by her reaction that she hadn't been expecting Snape.

Draco was aware Severus and his father had been cooking up some kind of extravagant dinner in the kitchen, he just didn’t know it was being done in an effort to seduce Hermione. 

And they were most definitely tying to seduce her. His father didn’t invite people over and make an effort unless there was something in it for him. Draco was furious with himself for not getting to her first. He’d been waiting until the weekend to see if she wanted to go out again; but now it seemed he’d missed his chance.

Draco rested his hand on her lower back, encouraging her to stand her ground. _Go on. Don’t let them spook you._

Squaring her shoulders, Hermione crossed to the table, her heels clicking confidently on the hardwood floor. “Good evening, Professor Snape.”

Draco smiled to himself. So she _could_ play the game after all.

But Severus was the Grandmaster of opponents. “Miss Granger,” he said cooly, sipping his wine as if he were bored by her arrival. His black eyes raked the length of her body, but his expression suggested he’d seen nothing noteworthy.

Draco knew that had to be an act, because she looked absolutely stunning. Her grey dress was simple, but it hugged her curves like dream, accentuating her assets in a way that seemed beyond the capabilities of wool. Her hair was smooth and sleek, which wasn’t a look he was used to seeing on her. There was a curl at the nape of her neck that kept catching his eye, and he had the urge to press his mouth to it . . . and work his way down. 

Lucius pulled out the chair across from Snape and, with an unnecessary flourish of his fingers, gestured for her to take a seat.

Sliding up beside her, Draco gave her arse an reassuring pat, and she flashed him a secretive smile over her shoulder.

“Draco, take your mother’s seat,” Lucius said, dismissively waving toward the foot of the table.

Draco rolled his eyes. He hated sitting in his mother’s chair. It was unsettling and made him a bit ill. But there was no other place set. Grudgingly, he sat opposite his father, shooting a scowl down the table to proclaim his displeasure.

Lucius ignored his fury and went about selecting which dish to pass first. 

Draco scanned the table to see what was for dinner. Blisteringly red strawberries topped with fluffy whipped cream. _Hmmm. Perhaps later_. Sliced figs drizzled in honey. _What’s with all the fruit?_ Chocolate custard sprinkled with slivers of dark chocolate confetti. _Okay . . . I’m beginning to sense a theme_. And the large silver serving platter held an artfully arranged bed of raw oysters. Bloody hell, this was an aphrodisiac buffet. _Very subtle, father. Why don’t you just whip out your cock and tell her you’ve got spotted dick on the menu?_

“You simply must try the custard,” Lucius said as he set the dish before her. “Severus made that himself.”

“Did he?” Hermione asked, her eyes darting to the Potions master as if wondering what he might have laced it with. “I didn’t know you were handy in the kitchen, Professor.”

“He’s handy in most rooms,” Lucius quipped. “But the custard is his specialty.”

Hermione smiled and pushed the bowl back toward Lucius. “I couldn’t eat before the host.”

Draco ducked his head and grinned at his plate. Smart girl. Consuming any comestible prepared by Snape sounded like a high stakes dare.

Sensing her reticence, Lucius snickered and served himself. Draco took a sip of his wine and waited to see if his father would actually ingest what he’d put on his plate. Severus seemed oblivious to the custardy standoff and was piling several strawberries next to the oysters on his plate. Draco made a face. _Bleh!_ Strawberries and raw bivalves—what a combination. Lucius hadn’t thought this through at all; she was going to be too nauseated to partake in whatever perversion he had planned. _Hmm, perhaps that’ll work in my favor._

Lucius swiped his finger through his custard and, looking Hermione in the eye, licked it away with a suggestive curl of his tongue. “Mmmmm,” he murmured. “Scrumptious as always, Severus.”

Snape acknowledged the praise with a solitary nod.

Hermione glanced at Draco, her gaze searching his, asking if it was safe to eat. Draco shrugged. It seemed legit.

Scooping a hearty serving onto her plate, she passed the dish to him and then stared at the chocolately mound as if gathering her courage. With a final deep breath, she felt around the edges of her plate and tipped her head sideways, peering under the table as if she’d dropped something. “I don’t seem to have any silverware.”

Lucius’s gracious smile curled to a wicked grin. “I recalled your fondness for _using your hands_ and planned the menu accordingly.”

Her ears went pink, but she didn’t appear upset by the comment. “I see. How considerate.”

Unfolding her napkin with a graceful whip of her wrist, she placed the linen over her lap like a proper lady. Then, as if to obliterate that image with stark contradiction, she swirled one finger through the custard, drawing small spirals over its rolling peaks with a sensual finesse that made his scrotum tighten with anticipation. In the blink of an eye, she’d become the badass dominatrix of desserts, and Draco’s cock stood on tiptoe to see what she would do next.

Lifting her finger, Hermione studied the glistening chocolate with detached interest. Draco longed to lick her clean, but using their guest as a utensil might be considered bad manners. Instead, he watched with bated breath as she lapped the custard from her finger like a lascivious lioness, the dark dessert disappearing on her tongue in erotic increments. She gave Lucius a triumphant smirk and stuck her whole finger in her mouth, pulling the remains from the digit with a prurient pop of suction. Draco’s knob attempted to batter its way past his zip, heedless of the grating metal teeth barring the way. How was he supposed to function, let alone eat, with her fellating her food like that?

Hermione’s expression shifted from coquettish pride to pure surprise. “Oh! This really is amazing.” She scooped up another dollop and began her ritual anew. “I think this might be the best chocolate I’ve ever had,” she muttered between licks. “Where on earth did you learn to make this, Professor?”

 The hint of a smile tugged at Snape’s mouth. “It was my mother’s recipe.”

“Bloody hell,” she said, her eyes rolling back as she swallowed another bite. “You should retire and start your own custard shop.”

“That’s just what I keep telling him,” Lucius chirped. “Snape’s Secret Recipe. We’ll give Fortescue’s a run for their money.”

Severus ignored them, tipping back an oyster and chewing slowly as if the conversation wasn’t taking place.

“I could eat a whole tub of this,” Hermione said with a groan of arousal. “What’s your secret?”

Severus cocked one eyebrow. “Love,” he replied dryly.

Lucius snickered and studied his chocolate-coated finger. “I always thought it was sugar.”

Snape shrugged as if to say _same difference._

“Try it with the strawberries,” Lucius told her. “The taste combination is sublime.”

Snape pushed the bowl toward him, and Lucius dished out several red berries, arranging them on his plate like an artist’s palette. Swiping one through the custard, he held it out to her in offering.

“Thank you.” Hermione pinched the leafy, green top between two fingers so she could bite off the end . . . but not before her pink tongue tapped the tip for another quick taste. Then her plump lips wrapped around the circumference as if latching onto an enormous nipple, and when she took a bite, those lips followed the curve of the red dimpled skin, dragging over its flesh like a hungry lover.

Draco was getting worried he wouldn’t have any usable cock left by the time dinner was over; his trousers had worn off the first layer of skin, and he was almost down to the quick.

Her tongue reappeared to gather a speck of chocolate from the corner of her mouth, and Draco had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from coming all over himself. He refused to humiliate himself two weeks in a row.

“These are so ripe,” she said as she lapped up a stream of juice that had run down her thumb. “Where did you find fresh strawberries at this time of year?”

Snape answered even though the question had been directed at Lucius, “There’s a produce patch in greenhouse three.”

“Did Neville grow these?”

He nodded.

“This is _so_ good—especially compared to the ham sandwiches I’ve been eating all week.”

Lucius passed her the bowl. “Please, indulge. We need to keep up your strength.”

Hermione shook her head but smiled faintly. “I’m not likely to last long on custard and strawberries.”

“We have oysters as well,” Lucius said, motioning to Snape for the dish.

Severus passed it over, and Lucius set three on his plate before handing her the rest. While they were distracted with the next course, Draco took the opportunity to try the custard for himself; in the chaos of carnal consumption he kept forgetting to eat. When the first dark finger full touched his tongue, he did a double take, convinced his taste buds had deceived him. The custard was sweet and smooth, sinfully rich and creamy to a fault. Outstanding didn’t do the dish justice. He tried it with the strawberries next and almost had an oral orgasm. Bloody hell, he was going to collapse in a sugar coma—but what a way to go.

“Do you have any lemon for the oysters?” Hermione asked Lucius.

Lucius scanned the table. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “I left them in the kitchen. Please excuse me.” He headed to the hall, calling out, “Accio lemons,” in a annoyed tone.

Hermione placed three oysters on her plate and passed Draco the platter. “I can’t say I’ve ever had the taste sensation of oysters and custard.” Her squeamish grimace suggested she was as revolted by the idea as he’d been.

“You need a palate cleanser,” Snape said quietly as he sipped his wine, the glass distorting his voice. “Something to . . . occupy your tongue.”

Playing along, she nodded earnestly. “What do you suggest? Sorbet? Bread?”

“We do have pickles,” Lucius said, returning with the lemon wedges and setting the bowl next to her.

“I’m sure this lemon will work just fine,” she replied, her smile betraying her amusement. “But if you and Severus have the urge to lick pickles between courses, I have no objection.”

Draco snorted into his custard, impressed she’d volleyed the serve.

“Or is that just a library snack?” she asked with a sweet smile.

“Not at all,” Snape shot back. “Pickles are a palate cleanser in any room of the house. That would be like saying you could only shuck your oyster when hiding behind a bookcase.”

Hermione blushed brightly, but a chagrined smile lit her face. “Well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do when faced with impromptu dinner theatre.” She tipped back an oyster and gave Snape a daring smile.

“Go head and swallow, Miss Granger. We all know how much you enjoy that part.”

A flood of red suffused her cheeks, and it took her a few seconds to chew and gulp down the mollusk. “Mmmm,” she purred, fighting tooth and nail to appear unaffected. She had to take a sip of wine to gather her wits, but then she came out swinging. 

Swiping her finger through the whipped cream that clung to her strawberries, she brought it to her lips and began to clean it away with delicate touches of her tongue. “Can I assume, from the showcase of talents you displayed last weekend, that you _creamed_ these berries _by hand_?”

“That I did, but since the berries never screamed my name like a banshee, I can only surmise that they weren’t as satisfied by the experience as _some_.”

Draco and Lucius both turned to Hermione to see if she had a comeback for that.

Choosing another lemon from the bowl, she suggestively wrapped her fingers around it and squeezed. Draco’s cock throbbed at the memory of her gripping him in a similar fashion.

In a blatant simulation, her hand slid down, following an imaginary shaft, and she ejected the lemon’s juice all over her oyster without breaking eye contact with the pale Potions master. “I’m sure if you had just used the proper _tool_ , you would have had those berries singing your praises.”

“Some berries can’t handle professional _equipment_ ,” he said, enunciating the last word, which added a fresh coat of blush to her cheeks. Severus slurped back his oyster and chewed it slowly, never looking away.

“You just need a heartier variety,” she assured him. “Some berries fancy a good hulling.”

Snape’s left eyebrow quirked. “Is that what had the juices running down your leg last week, dire need of a decent hulling?”

Smiling broadly, she shook her head, but Lucius interrupted before she could reply.

“I thought it was the meat tenderizing that set off your marination.”

Hermione smirked. “As I recall I wasn’t the only one with marinated meat.”

“That wasn’t marinade,” he said haughtily.

“No? What was it?”

“A vintage I keep in reserve for special guests.”

Hermione returned his sly smile. “Is that on the menu tonight as well?”

“It’s dessert. But only if you clean your plate.”

Draco made a face and sat back. “I’ll skip dessert, thanks.”

Unable to maintain her cool facade, Hermione threw back her head and laughed riotously. “Oh gods,” she gasped, wiping her eyes. “I’m sure we can find you a suitable substitution.”

“In that case, you’d better pass me those lemons. I don’t want chocolate oysters on my tongue if I’m going to have Granger pie later.”

Grinning, she pushed the bowl toward him. Their hands touched, and she traced the backs of his fingers, lingering far longer than necessary and drawing everyone’s attention.

“You should try the figs,” Lucius said through clenched teeth, obviously furious that Draco had stolen his spotlight. “Sweetens the tongue.”

“Don’t deprive him, Hermione,” Draco said in stage whisper. “His tongue needs them far more than yours.”

Lucius sneered and pointed a threatening finger in Draco’s direction. “If you’re going to act like a child, I think you should—”

“Here you are, Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione interjected smoothly, placing a fig on his plate. “Excuse fingers.”

With a hint of confusion, Lucius’s anger melted to pleasure.

“How about you, Professor? Does your tongue need sweetening?”

Lucius glanced at Snape and smirked. “There aren’t enough figs or honey in the world to sweeten that tongue.”

Severus side-eyed him, but it scarcely dented Lucius’s arrogant armor.

“I think Miss Granger has proven herself to be a witch who prefers a bit of bite in her wizards,” Severus said darkly. “Perhaps you should pass me a lemon wedge instead.”

Draco pushed the bowl over to him, and Hermione gave the Potions master a thoughtful look as he selected a suitable specimen.

“I like a variety of flavors,” she said without a hint of irony.

“Indeed,” Snape muttered.

Severus’s obsidian eyes bore into hers, and Draco could almost feel the sexual tension radiating off them in waves. A worm of worry ate its way into his gut.

Lucius, whether oblivious or jealous, cut through the moment with a blithe, “I hope you’re able to stay and chat after dinner, Miss Granger.” He licked the excess honey from his fig and suggestively arched one blond brow in her direction.

Hermione looked down at her plate, gnawing her lower lip as if debating the possibilities. Draco sensed her hesitation and found some hope in her reticence. Maybe she wasn’t keen on his father after all. If she bailed, Draco was going to ask if he could go home with her.

“I didn’t know this was going to be such a . . . _populous_ party when I came over.”

Lucius met Snape’s gaze, and they regarded one another carefully. Was she suggesting she wasn’t interested in shagging one of them, or was she just apprehensive about the prospect of a gang bang? If this was too much for her, Draco wanted to get her out of there quickly. His father wasn’t fond of being told no.

“I’d like to . . . sample the options,” she continued, “but . . . you’d have to make it worth my while.”

Lucius and Severus broke their silent conversation to study her, both sets of eyes searching for some kind of clue in her expression.

Lucius spoke, his voice transformed from cool amusement to soft reassurance, “I think we can satisfy your cravings. Shall we retire to the library?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed, as if the right amount of focus would reveal any deceit. “If you mean spanking central, I think you'd better prepare to grovel. I might enjoy a good slap on the arse, but I don't make a habit of letting men pass me around like an after-dinner cigar."

Draco almost choked on his last oyster. Granger was better at playing hardball than he’d expected. And if Lucius was going to grovel, Draco wanted to go find the camera.

"Malfoys don't grovel," Lucius said flatly.

“Good to know," Hermione said with a easy smile. "I'll just see myself out then. Thank you for such an interesting dinner, Mr. Malfoy. I've had a lovely time." She took her napkin from her lap and patted the corners of her mouth. "Good evening, Professor. It was nice chatting with you. Perhaps I'll see you here again sometime."

She rose from her chair with a polite nod, and Draco popped out of his seat faster than a Snitch on speed. "Can I stay at your place? This Malfoy will grovel as much as you please."

She held out her hand to him. "I always have time for a man who appreciates my company."

Draco flashed the older wizards a wicked smile. "Don't wait up."

He put his arm around her and started for the door. "Hold on a second, love." Running back to the table, he picked up the bowl of custard and nodded at Severus. "This should come in handy. My compliments to the chef."

Hermione laughed, the bright sound ringing through the Manor's empty corridors. "Come on, Draco. It's time for the next course."

He put his arm back around her shoulders and hustled her down the hall. When he knew his father was out of earshot, he kissed her head and murmured, "No dessert until you give me a proper hug."

She smiled up at him. "Did you want me to hug you with my dress on or off?"

His eyes widened. Holy fucking harpies! Where had this witch been hiding all these years? "How do you feel about custard corsets?"

She shrugged. "That should look nice with your custard g-string."

Not _exactly_ what he had in mind, but Draco was up for anything. "In that case, let's go back to your Cupboard and play pantry perverts . . . I’ll bring the cream." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dinner Theatre—I really hope I don’t have to explain this one, but for those who can’t figure it out, it’s when you go see a show and, while you’re watching it, they feed you a meal. (This usually takes place in a large banquet room/hall of some sort.)
> 
> “Sexy Silk” by Jessie J. Written by Jessica Cornish (Jessie J), Jack Hammer, Justin Broad, Ashton Millard, and Paul Herman.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=YVDE-LCL7L4>
> 
> Fun tidbit: Jessie J is the first British female artist to have six top ten singles from the same album (on the UK Singles Chart).


	9. Exposition

9—Exposition

“Only the beginning. Only just the start.”—Chicago

(Lucius)

Snape’s glare shot across the table and stabbed him like a dagger. “Well, that went well. You’re not going to let her leave with him, are you?”

"What am I supposed to do? I can't start groveling after I said I wouldn't; she'll have my bollocks as a silk purse if I back down now."

"I don't think she actually meant groveling. I think she just wants some assurance that we're not going to treat her like a Knockturn Alley whore."

"You know very well I only treat real whores like whores. She's just a bit of fun."

"Are you going to go after them? If you don't do it now, they're going to be out that door; and I don't even want to think about what your son plans to do with my custard."

Lucius sighed. "What the hell am I supposed to say?"

"How should I know?" Snape shot back. "I'm not exactly the poster boy for charming coercion. Just work some of your damn blond unicorn sparkle magic on her."

Lucius smirked. "Did you just say _blond unicorn sparkle magic_? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, please, you know exactly what I mean," Snape said with an exasperated huff. "Women flock to you as if they’re dying to pet your mane and stroke your horn. Use your goddamn shiny coat to get her back here. You got me all set on this idea, and now you're just going to let her leave with Draco."

"Me! This was your idea. You're the one who couldn't stop talking about her arse."

"Only because you wouldn't stop talking about her mouth."

A pang of longing rolled through his groin at the mention of that talented tongue. "I was merely pointing out the benefits of being with a woman. No offense, but you're about as soft as the Whomping Willow. I wanted to . . .”

Severus held up one hand to stop him. "I know," he said with a weary sigh. "Me too. We need a female in the bed to balance things out. Something's missing with Narcissa gone."

Lucius was glad it wasn’t just his imagination. "Do you really think she's the right one to . . . bring in? She's awfully young."

Snape rolled his eyes. "You saw the way she responded as well as I did. Stop acting as if we're replacing Narcissa. We both know that will never happen. But Granger is an extremely good match for us; we should take advantage of that while we can."

"What about Draco? What are we going to do about him?"

Severus stood. "I'm not sure yet. But you'd better be a bit nicer, or Granger's going to side with him. She loves an underdog."

"Where are you going?" Lucius asked as Snape strode toward the door.

"To get her to come back."

Lucius slid out of his chair and followed after him, both of them rushing through the halls in pursuit of their guest.

"Miss Granger," Severus called in a warning tone as he rounded the corner.

Draco and Hermione were silhouetted in the open front door, but they both turned at the sound of the Snape's voice.

"It's rude to leave in the middle of dinner."

Hermione and Draco looked at each other in mild confusion. She shook her head and waited for Snape to get closer so they didn’t have to shout. "I beg your pardon?"

"You left with no warning, and I was _not_ finished saying goodbye."

She blinked at him, flabbergasted. "You weren't?"

"Hardly. Your point has been taken, so if you're done making your dramatic exit, I would appreciate it if you returned to the library with me to finish our dinner conversation."

Her eyes narrowed, and she lifted her head as if appraising Severus through an invisible pair of bifocals. Lucius’s heart gave an unexpected lurch of panic. What had he done? All week he’d been fixated on the memory of their romp in the library, the look on her face as the orgasm hit, the soft warmth of her lips wrapped around his cock, the feel of her fingers clutching his hand, as if she were searching for his support, as if she might collapse under the onslaught of bliss without his help; and with just one moment of prideful pique, he’d stuck his foot in his mouth and kicked in his own teeth.

"And Mr. Malfoy?" she asked.

Her penetrating stare shot to Lucius, and for an instant, he was terrified by the thought that she could see straight through to his soul.

Stopping at Snape’s side, Lucius took a deep breath and inclined his head in acknowledgment of her skepticism. "I would also like you to return to the library. I think we should discuss some things."

Hermione looked at Draco again, and Lucius noticed the tendons popping out in his son’s neck as his jaw clenched in silent fury, his custardy schemes having been thwarted.

She nodded slowly. "I’d very much like to have a discussion with you both, but I think I should talk it over with my date first. If you’ll just give us a moment."

Lucius nodded courteously and held his breath as she pulled Draco in for a private conference. What he wouldn’t give for one of those confounded Weasley Extendable Ears right about then. What on earth could she be saying, and why would Draco ever agree? There was some whispering back and forth, and then Draco gave her a tight nod and stood up again, flexing his arm around her shoulders and shooting Lucius a vengeful sneer when she wasn’t looking.

“A chat in the library sounds lovely, Mr. Malfoy. Would you care to lead the way?”

Lucius couldn’t believe his luck. She must have been one hell of a persuasive witch to talk Draco into staying. “Yes, of course. Please follow me.”

Lucius met Severus's eye as they turned toward the hall. He knew exactly what Snape was thinking. _Time to sparkle, Lucius_.

When they reached the library, Lucius doubled back and waited until Draco released Hermione so she could walk through the door ahead of him. Not missing a beat, he held out his hand to her. "Please allow me to escort you."

She accepted his offer with only a slight hesitation, but that pause told him that this was going to take some effort on his part. This wasn’t negotiation—this was seduction. Both required intuition and artistry, but negotiations were won with bluster, whereas seduction’s sway came from the pelvis. He had to ease her into it, gently urging her pussy to take command. He didn't want cautious consent, he wanted her hungry for him and Severus, the way she'd been after her spanking.

Leading her over to the couch, he invited her to sit next to Snape. "Draco, pour the champagne. Use the tall flutes on the bottom shelf."

Draco grumbled under his breath but went to the liquor cabinet and began to search for acceptable libations.

Lucius sat on Hermione's other side, just as he had the weekend before, except this time he immediately put his left arm around her shoulders. He needed to test her willingness and get her used to the physical contact.  

Leaning in, he reached over to brush the back of her hand with his fingertips. She was softer than a petal, and his stomach pitched severely to the left; the visceral reaction made him realize he needed a dose of womanly warmth even more than he'd admitted to himself.  "I'm glad you were willing to hear us out. We didn't mean to offend you in the dining room."

She stared at his fingers for a second then looked him in the eye. "I wasn't offended. I just didn't want to be misunderstood."

Her hand stayed on the couch, suggesting she wasn’t averse to his touch or proximity. Trailing his fingers up her arm, he moved in closer. "What misunderstanding were you hoping to avoid?"

"Well," she said thoughtfully. "I guess if you're intending to do what we did last weekend—or more—I want to know what you have in mind. And I want you to understand that I won't be turned into your Mudblood whore. I'm here because I'm interested, not because I want to be mistreated."

Lucius leaned away from her, taken aback. Although he'd used the word many times in the past, just hearing her accuse him of thinking it now was a blow he hadn’t been expecting. "That word has not been spoken in this house in over a decade."

Snape grimaced sympathetically. "I know you've had an unpleasant history with Lucius, but I assure you, Miss Granger, his repentance is genuine; and he hasn’t expressed such sentiments about you or anyone else since Azkaban."

"And I do not treat _any_ woman like a whore. I haven't even been with any other women since Narcissa. In all the years you've been coming here with Draco, have I ever given you any reason to believe I thought you unworthy?"

She slowly shook her head, her eyes flashing with something akin to pain. "No. I apologize. I didn't mean to make light of your past or imply that you didn't love your wife. I know you did. But you do have a reputation as a womanizer. And although I've been here many times over the years, you've scarcely spoken to me. I have no idea what you're thinking. And you must see how dangerous this is for me—not just socially but physically. Letting ex-Death Eaters have their way with me doesn't exactly scream sanity. I have to know that you're not going to do anything to harm me. My fantasy could quickly become my nightmare."

Lucius hadn't considered that. Assault wasn't something he had to guard against since the Dark Lord’s demise. He knew what it was like to be threatened with bodily harm, but he'd never thought about how a witch might feel that threat from a casual shagging. Fucking was supposed to be fun, not terrifying. And she was right, of all the likely candidates for rape, Death Eaters topped the list. Damn. That was why she wanted groveling. If she had some measure of control over him, she'd feel safer. While he had no intention of resorting to begging, he wanted to reassure her that they meant no harm.

Lucius put his hand over hers, gently stroking the backs of her fingers. "I didn't consider that. Would it make you feel better to know that those womanizing rumors are just rumors? I haven't been with any woman except my wife since our wedding day."

She nodded. "That helps a bit. What is it you're hoping to get from . . . this?"

Lucius glanced over at Draco. He didn't like revealing something so personal with so many people present—especially not his son—but he knew she needed a real answer. "I simply want the pleasure of a woman's touch."

She seemed to understand that need, because she tickled his palm with her fingertips the way only a witch could. "That's it? You don't want to hogtie me and whip me till I call you master?"

His brows shot toward the ceiling. "Where on earth did you get that idea?"

She shrugged. "I don't know what you're into."

Severus spoke in his defense, "Lucius isn't a sadist, Miss Granger. He's a sensualist. He wants touch. Having you over his knee was simply another manifestation of that. We both enjoy a bit of domination, but Lucius's desire for control stems from his need for physical pleasure. Rough touches can be just as pleasurable as soft touches—as you already well know."

She turned to look at Snape. "What about you? Why do you want this?"

Snape's face went slack, the blank expression of Occlumency kicking in automatically after years of guarded confessions.

"I won't lie to you, my tastes are darker than Lucius's. My desire for domination is not about touch; it's about control. I'm not saying I want you to be my slave; I'm merely saying I enjoy a submissive partner."

Hermione looked back and forth between them. "So is Lucius submissive to you?"

Lucius sputtered with repressed laughter, and he could see Severus struggling to remain stoic.

"No, Miss Granger," Snape answered. "Lucius and I are . . . difficult to label. There's not really a power dynamic between us."

Draco leaned over the couch, holding out bubbling glasses to both Severus and Hermione. She smiled at him and held his hand as she took her champagne, her body relaxing at the contact. What the hell was going on between them?

"Thank you, Draco," she said softly. "What are your intentions with me?"

Draco stared at her for a long time, apparently weighing his answer carefully before speaking. "You know what I want. It's not complicated."

She smiled and kissed his fingers before letting go. "May I ask you a personal question about your wife, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I suppose."

"Did you and Snape shag her together?"

He smiled wistfully. "Yes, we did."

"And did she like it?"

Lucius glanced at Draco as his son handed him a glass and then slid into the same chair he'd taken the weekend before. It seemed inappropriate to discuss his wife’s sexual preferences in front of his son, but Draco didn’t even flinch at the question. "Yes, she did. A great deal. I never would have continued to do something she didn't want just as much as I did."

Hermione sipped her champagne. "I don't know how to go about something like this. I've never been with more than one person before."

Severus studied her intently, and Lucius wondered what Snape could see that he couldn't. Was there some unfortunate sexual experience in her past? Was she just dying for a decent shag? Was she attracted to one of them more than the other?

"Before anything happens you should pick a safe word," Snape said in a low, soothing tone. "Whether it's with us or anyone else."

"Can't you just read my mind?"

Snape sighed and took a sip from his glass. "I don't know if you've ever tried to perform Legilimency while in the throes of passion, but I assure you it is not only difficult but distracting. I always get general flashes of insight, but that's not really controllable. Besides, Lucius and Draco are not Legilimens, and you need to be communicating clearly with everyone."

She nodded. "How about red for stop?"

"I don't like using words that might crop up in the course of a sexual encounter. There are many instances where you might say red."

She blushed.

"For instance, your face is now extremely red," he observed dryly. "How about bookworm? It's not something you’d accidentally say, and I know how you like literary associations."

Hermione smiled. "I guess that sounds fine. What about you two? Do you have safe words?"

Lucius smirked. "We do, but I don't think we'll have any problems pulling you off the other if you get too voracious."

"Mine's Firebolt," Draco volunteered. "I've never had to use it with anyone, but Granger's braver than the average witch. I think my odds are good."

Lucius didn't know if he meant good that he'd have to use it or good that he'd remain silent. "Let's just start out slowly. Let me get this," Lucius said as he took the glass from her hand.

After setting both their drinks on the table, he leaned back and slid his arm around her shoulders again. They needed to keep things moving so she didn’t have time to get cold feet. Scooping up her hand in his, he kissed her fingers. The scent of chocolate still clung to her skin. When he gave her a testing lick, her breathing hitched, which he took as an excellent sign. Laving her soft knuckles, he tickled his way between her index and middle fingers with a wet flicker. Was that a gasp? _You liked that, didn't you?_

Resting her hand in his lap, he left her cocoa-flavored fingers near his flies—just as a friendly suggestion—and slid his hand up her knee. _Mmm. Soft. Silk_. His hand snaked under her skirt, and her eyes went as dark as Snape's custard. _Bloody hell. She's even more excited than I am._

He drew slow, deliberate circles along her thigh to tranquilize and tantalize. When she relaxed, he’d cup that warm flesh and pull her legs open. But not yet. Poking Snape in the shoulder with his left hand, Lucius gestured that some help would be appreciated.

"How's that feel?" Lucius purred. "Nice?"

Hermione nodded. "I fancy it."

An almost imperceptible snort came from Snape’s direction. "Start on her neck; I'll get her in the mood."

Lucius knew exactly what he meant. They had both already deduced what tripped her trigger. Severus would provide the dominance, and Lucius would tease out her inner nymphette with some strategic stroking. Teamwork. Giving her one last wicked grin, he slowly moved in, brushing his nose along her cheek. "Let's see how wet you can get."

His lips grazed her jaw just below her ear, and he kissed his way down the slope of her neck. She sighed in pleasure, her head rolling to one side, offering him the vulnerable curve of her carotid. After each peck, he lightly lapped the point of contact. Kiss and lick. Up and down. She tasted scrumptious. 

"Open wide, Miss Granger," Snape said in his silkiest voice.

God damn! Lucius's cock liked hearing that even if he wasn’t the intended target. That man could talk any hearing human to orgasm. Sometimes right before Malfoy came, Snape would start hissing the filthiest phrases imaginable. Any restraint Lucius might have in reserve would be whispered away on a riptide of filthy pillow talk. Granger didn’t stand a chance. Latching onto her sweet neck, Lucius added a bonus nip to clinch the deal.

"That's it," Snape murmured. "Suck." The sibilance was drawn out so the dark pop of the “k” sounded particularly lewd, like a cock popping from the suction of a lover’s mouth. The man was a bloody wordsmith.

Lucius knew without looking that Severus had his thumb in her mouth. It was a prelude of things to come. Her talents were being tested and her mindset manipulated. Her hungry sirs from last week would be fed with probing fingers and heated commands.

And her response was impressive—quivering thighs, accelerated respiration, pulse skipping across his tongue. But those clues weren’t nearly as blatant as the wanton parting of her legs. Lucius smiled to himself. "Good girl."

A soft moan of excitement hummed from her throat, tickling his lips. The sweet sound of feminine arousal. How he’d missed those lyrical notes of longing. Not that he didn’t love the chorus of hisses and grunts Snape provided, he just missed the harmony of the female voice. She was a breathy little ball of tension. 

At the top of her thigh, his fingers found a berm of bare skin. Stockings! _What a clever little witch we've chosen_. One finger climbed higher, and he discovered that she was even more brilliant than Draco had led him to believe. No knickers.

"Naughty girl," he murmured, chuckling in her ear. "How can I steal your panties if you're not wearing any? Were you hoping to get this pussy petted tonight?"

"Mm-hmm," she moaned around Snape's thumb.

Lucius grinned at Severus. "Wait'll you see what she's got on under here."

Snape quirked an eyebrow and pulled his thumb from between her lips, leaving a wet trail down her chin. He caressed her knee for a moment before creeping under her skirt. The hem of her dress climbed higher, no longer able to resist the pull. Snape's hand brushed along the back of his, and Lucius grinned as Severus discovered the fluffy warmth of her muff; there was no mistaking the flare of Snape's nostrils or the flinty spark in his eye. The Potion master’s long fingers danced between his own, playing over her quim like a concert pianist. Her breathing was suddenly ragged with arousal, and she grabbed hold of Lucius's crotch as if he was a broom handle—which, to be honest, was a fair comparison in his current state.

Snape's right arm, which had been resting along the back of the couch, abandoned its lazy relaxation, and Lucius felt Snape’s fingers on his neck, urging him to return to her throat.

Severus wasted no time, delicately stroking her slit so the silky secretions flowed from her like an oil spill. Lucius gently pulled aside her labium to assist, and she panted and squeezed his erection as if she were on the brink of convulsing. _You’d better hold on_. _We're not even close to being done with you._ One of Snape's fingers traced the peaks of her exposed inner flesh, and her hips jerked in excitement.

"I think she's ready, Severus. Stop teasing her."

"Legs wide, Miss Granger. We need room."

She spread her legs as far as she could, pressing her knees against them both. Her dress struggled to keep its grasp on her silken thighs, but Lucius gave it a friendly shove so they could see what they were doing.

"Much better," Snape said evenly.

Locking her gaze on her exposed sex, she followed the path of their hands with avid attention. Snape eased his middle finger into her depths, and she sank her teeth into her lower lip, literally biting back her whimper. Lucius moved north while Severus manned the southern gates. Her nipples were solid—stiff enough to be felt through her clothing, and Lucius ran his thumb over one budding nub. She met his eyes, her face tight with passion and possibly panic.

"Do you like that?" he whispered. Drawing his mouth over her velvety cheek, he found her ear again. A little reassurance would settle her nerves. "Don't you just love what he can do with those hands? Put your leg over his. Let him see everything."

Her expression was hopeful; and he surmised that she found both their control and approval to be equally erotic. He could provide plenty of both.

When she did as requested, Lucius tweaked her nipple in reward. "Mmmmmm. Our own little Gryffindor princess. Have you ever been fucked by a Slytherin?"

"No, sir," she whispered.

“How about an older man?” His tongue flickered around her ear. "We don't take sex lightly. It’s not a pastime, it’s an art. And we're both masters of our medium. Severus has a cock that can leave you speaking Parseltongue; and I know how much you enjoyed sucking my serpent last week. Do you think you can charm both our snakes tonight?"

"Yes, sir."

"We'll see. Why don't you tell Severus how much you want his cock. I know he'd like to hear that."

Lucius didn’t just want to fuck this witch, he wanted to share her with Severus, to reignite the spark that made them so explosive. Granger was the gunpowder, and it was time to light a match. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Beginnings" by Chicago. 1969. Written by Robert Lamm.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=lI-BMDnti4c>
> 
> Exposition—exposition is the initial presentation of the thematic material of a musical composition, movement, or section. The use of the term generally implies that the material will be developed or varied.—Wikipedia


	10. Chords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted for TMG. It won first place in both catagories :D

10—Chords

“‘Cause your sex takes me to paradise.”—Bruno Mars

(Severus)

“Please may I touch you, sir?”

That was the kind of question Severus dreamed of hearing—her sex-stained voice pleading for his manhood. He’d been surviving on the echoes of last week's lust for the past six days; each spank and wank had been replayed in his imagination ad nauseam, and he’d come at least a dozen times to the memory of her screaming his name. That little hellion had roused the devil in him, prodding his libido like a fiery pitchfork to the posterior. He felt alive and, for the first time in years, excited about what lay ahead.

Of course he was devoted to Lucius, but there were things a submissive witch could give him that Lucius couldn’t. Pleading pink lips. A rounded backside suitable for spanking. Desperate brown eyes that flared like cognac in the firelight. Surrender. Like himself, Lucius always held something back, but Severus sensed a freedom in her that he couldn’t comprehend. Something wild. Powerful. He wanted to be a part of that.

Circling his thumb over her swollen clitoris, he probed her molten snatch with two fingers and breathed in the sweet aroma of female pheromones that permeated the air. Delicious. Copious tides of fragrant effusion coated his hand; she was leaking like a punctured cherry cordial, the creamy filling dripping from her center.

“You may touch me,” he answered. “Keep being a good girl and I might let you take it out later. Would you like that?”

“Yes, sir,” she affirmed, her voice breathy with building arousal.

Her hot hand crept to his crotch to trace the bulge she’d inspired. He wasn’t totally hard yet, but if she kept groping him like that, he’d be there in record time. Palming his package, she curled her fingers around his balls and gave him a squeeze. She was doing the same to Lucius, one of them in each hand. Brave and brazen. What an enticing combination.

The mouthwatering scent of her sex finally propelled him beyond patience. He just needed a tiny taste to silence his cravings. Pulling his hand from her slot, he brought his glistening fingers to his face and discreetly inhaled her musk before indulging his sweet tooth.

She watched him with bated breath, her jaw dropping lower with every swipe of his tongue. Oh, she was definitely the right witch for them. So ready. So willing. So hungry.

When his fingers were clean, he dipped inside for more, almost burning himself in the sweltering confines of her channel. She was so hot he wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam rising from her cunny like a cup of simmering tea. He’d have to sink in slowly later so his cock would have time to acclimate to the high temperatures, the way one eased into a hot bath. Severus sighed with pleasure just thinking about it.

And it seemed slow would be his only choice in such a small space. Narcissa’s pussy had been heavenly, dripping in warm welcome and rippling around him like a undulating wave; but the addition of strangulation to the equation would have been perfection squared. He couldn’t wait to get in there and test the pussy pliancy quotient.

When his fingers were saturated with her juice, Severus pulled out and touched them to her bottom lip, drawing it down so the seam of her mouth pulled apart. “Show me how you made Lucius come last week. Are you as good as he claims?”

Her eyes went darker than bourbon at midnight, and her pink tongue snaked out for a taste. Sliding into the wet heat of her mouth, he caressed the manic muscle within, eliciting a gasp that chilled his balmy digits.

Severus was careful, gradually testing her limits; and when he felt the resistance of her soft palette, he tenderly tickled his way deeper, grazing the back of her throat like a whisper. The anxiety in her eyes melted to confusion and then, when she relaxed, exhilaration. She’d been expecting to gag and was understandably pleased when she didn't. Too many overeager boys plunged down a girl’s throat with no finesse, souring them on all future deep-throating. Such a shame. A great deal of pleasure lay in the throat, but patience was required. He’d introduced both Lucius and Narcissa to the sensation, and once they’d felt the gossamer brush at the backs of their gullets, they’d become deep-throat devotees. Granger seemed to have fallen under his spell just as easily.

He let her rest whenever she tried to swallow, and she lapped his fingers with the dexterity of a ravenous wolf, her tongue curling and conforming to the curves of his hand. Bloody hell. What would she be able to do to his cock?

Endless possibilities flooded his mind.

Lucius abandoned her breasts when he realized her vagina had been vacated, and Severus observed his technique from the corner of his eye. It was beautiful to watch. Lucius’s fingers tiptoed and twirled over her labia, teasing her with the grace of a magician and ballroom dancer rolled into one. When she started to buck, he circled her clit, slow and steady, light as air. Snape had seen him do the same thing to Narcissa a thousand times. That made him wonder if Granger might relieve Lucius in more ways than one. If she could channel his suppressed emotional longings into physical release, perhaps Lucius could take the final steps toward healing. Severus would wait and see; that might be too much to ask for a one night stand.

As her hips’ undulations grew in velocity, so too did her whimpering grow in volume. Her needy whines spilled out around his fingers and bounced off his palm with a buzzy hum. There was the mindless abandon he’d been waiting for.

Glancing at Severus, Lucius smirked and nodded in her direction. Severus nodded back.

“You’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you?” Snape purred, staring into her half-lidded eyes. “Alone in your flat . . . in _bed_.” He hovered over the word bed for a second, infusing it with indecent poignancy. “Did you put your fingers in your mouth and pretend they were Lucius’s thick cock?” It wasn’t difficult to whip _thick_ to a buttery mouthful.

Her breathing became erratic, the air shooting in and out of her nostrils, her panicked hand gripping his fly like a life preserver. She was either on the brink of orgasm or spontaneous combustion.

“Did you bend over your bed and smack your sore arse until you came?”

Her eyes went wide, confirming his suspicions. How delightful.

“You did, didn’t you?” he said knowingly. “Did you wait until it had healed, or did you keep it red for as long as possible?”

Her finger sucking paused, and a guilty look flashed through her eyes.

“You naughty little minx,” he said with a dark smirk. “If you needed a spanking so desperately, you should have made an appointment to see me. I could have given you the detention you deserve.”

 _Oh, yes. Look at that face. Just hearing the word detention is making you gush, isn’t it?_ “Keep sucking, little girl.”

Her tongue wiggled into the crotch of his fingers and teased the sensitive webbing at the base. His cock surged at the sensation, struggling against his placket like a madman in a straight jacket. “Go inside, Lucius. She wants to be filled.”

“Then she’s come to the right place,” Malfoy muttered against her throat. Lucius slipped his middle finger between her lips and grunted in pleasure. “Bloody hell, she’s like a Chinese finger trap.”

Severus snickered. “Try two. She’ll need the stretching if we’re going to fuck her.”

Lucius doubled down, and her pussy squelched around the invasion, which elicited a lascivious smile from Lucius. “Do you hear that, Severus? She’s calling our names.”

“The berries are ripe. What did you say earlier, Miss Granger, some fancy a good hulling?” It was a rhetorical question; he didn’t wait for an answer. “Is she sticky yet? I enjoy a bit of jam on my biscuits.”

Her face flushed to the color of said strawberries.

“Would you look at that, Severus? I didn’t know witches blushed anymore. Find out what else she’s been thinking. Let’s see how red she can get.”

Lucius meant for him to use Legilimency, but that wouldn’t be necessary. Her brown eyes were brimming with naughty thoughts; they were practically oozing out of her skull. “She’s been thinking about us . . . together.”

Lucius chuckled. “Anything worth trying?”

“Nothing we haven’t already done. Except she seems to be under the impression you enjoy biting me, and . . . that I'm covered in bruises and hiding them with my concealing wardrobe."

Malfoy grinned. “I can’t remember the last time I saw a bruise on you.”

“When you knocked me into the nightstand?” Severus suggested wryly.

“That was your fault; I told you not to move too much.”

“I had a knot on my head for a week.”

“Let’s not start comparing war wounds, Mr. I-kick-in-my-sleep. My shin has been black and blue all year.”

“I told you to just wake me up. It’s not as if I’m enjoying my dreams.”

Lucius released her shoulder and stoked Snape’s chest with the backs of his fingers. “Maybe I just need to wear you out until you're too tired to dream. Miss Granger should be a great help in my endeavors."

Severus looked down at her and dragged his fingers from her drooling mouth. "How does that sound? Do you think you're up to the job?"

Too dazed to speak, she declawed his dick and reached up to touch his face. The caress was so light he almost couldn’t feel it. Severus had forgotten the striking gentleness possible with a witch. Her fingertips rolled down his face like satin raindrops, warm and smooth. Every inch of flesh on his body tuned itself to a higher frequency in search of the subtle signals she might be emitting. His cock especially wanted to receive that transmission.

She finally found her voice, “I’m so close.”

Lucius’s lips twittered with amusement. “We know. Why don’t you come for us?”

“I want to wait,” she said, gliding her finger over Snape’s jaw as if mapping his features. “I want somebody inside me, and I want to be in a bed.”

Lucius nodded in agreement. “Let’s take her to my room. We’ll all fit in my bed.”

The entire British Quidditch team could have fit in Malfoy’s bed. It was like a private island. Severus turned his head and nipped her fingers. “Stand up for us, Miss Granger. We’re relocating.”

They had to lend a hand; the evening’s festivities had left her legs wobbling like a newborn fawn. Ever the gentleman, Lucius returned her skirt to its original position then wrapped his arm around her waist. “I’ve got her. Open the doors for me, Severus.”

He scooped her up, and she squeaked in surprise. Severus wished he’d thought to carry her, but he was in favor of Lucius’s mode of travel. Between her diminished cognitive state and those precarious shoes, walking might have taken hours, and he wanted to strike while the iron was hot.

Severus took the lead, opening doors and heading the procession. Draco followed after them, silent and pensive. Severus couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind, but surely he was disappointed that his plans for custard coitus had been preempted. Snape had no intention of cock-blocking his godson, but he wasn’t going to give up his place in line either—and Lucius would sooner wear a muumuu to the Ministry than hand over a wet witch to the boy. He was just going to have to wait his turn.

There was obviously something going on between Hermione and Draco—Severus just had no idea what. Whatever it was must not have been serious if she was prepared to shag the lot of them. Perhaps they were merely friends . . . who occasionally got each other off. That didn’t sound like Granger, but then again, he never would have suspected her of being party to such a debauched dinner.

Severus pushed open the double doors to the bedroom and strode in, lighting the candles and fire with a single wave of his wand. The gloom vanished with a sudden glow of warm light, and the fire crackled to life. Lucius carefully set her in the center of the floor and held her steady as she got her bearings.

“All right there?” Lucius murmured, nuzzling her neck from behind.

Hermione nodded, but her voice shook, “Who’s going to go first?”

"Hmmmm,” Lucius pondered as he pressed his cheek to the top of her head and gave Severus a twinkly wink. “Why don't you get a taste of Snape first. Show him how sweet that honey has left your tongue."

Severus brought one hand to his throat and began to unbutton his frock coat. "Get her out of that damn dress. I want to enjoy this."

Draco took a chair by the fire, watching them all with a wary grimace. The boy looked ready for a fight, and Severus suspected he was anxious about what they intended to do to her. Severus might have found that interesting if his cock wasn’t commanding every iota of his attention.

Lucius slowly unzipped her dress, kissing her neck as her back was bared. Her eyelids drifted low, and she tilted her head to one side to offer him more. Always willing to take what was offered, Lucius grazed her throat with his teeth and pulled down the top of her dress so she was peeled like a banana.

Draco and Severus were both momentarily motionless. Her breasts were exquisite, encased in a modern marvel of black lace and wire. Each mound was presented like a work of art, upthrust and round, moulded for a man’s hand.

Lucius left her mummified in her sleeves while he unhooked her bra, and when he slid it down her arms, Draco inhaled sharply. Severus had to concur. She was breathtaking. Her nipples stood out, stiff and eager. He could almost feel them on his tongue, scoring his taste buds as they tightened to rosy knots.

Tossing his coat into the chair opposite Draco, Severus tore at his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel her skin on his. As he finished the last button, a flare of anxiety flickered in his gut. It occurred to him that he was the least attractive person in the room, and he realized he was worried what she might think of him. Lucius was like a damn show pony, and Draco looked like Britain’s most eligible bachelor. Severus was just a greasy bat with sallow skin and crooked teeth. Of course he made up for that in other areas, but he’d never had to compete with the Malfoys for a witch’s attention before. Narcissa had never said anything cruel about his appearance, but she’d been so in love with Lucius there had never been any need to impress.

Severus felt absolutely ridiculous for even worrying about it. He wasn’t seventeen anymore—he didn’t have the time or patience for random piques of vanity. Besides, Granger wasn’t the sort of witch who valued appearance over substance. She’d responded with nothing but abject arousal to every move he’d made. Why was he doubting himself?

He hadn’t even unveiled the secret weapon yet.

Lucius dropped to one knee behind her and drew her dress to the floor. Severus paused in his disrobing to watch.

That garter belt was eye-catching. He barely noticed the stockings, but he couldn’t shift his gaze from the soft triangle of her brunette bush. The black lines of the belt framed her sex so it was the focal point of her body.

The urgency thumping through Snape’s veins coalesced in his cock, and he resumed his undressing in a rush.

“Step out of your clothes for me, Miss Granger,” Lucius said softly. “Leave on your heels for now.”

A beautiful blush suffused her face and dripped down her chest, but she smiled shyly as if pleased by Malfoy’s shoe fetish. Carefully, she lifted her foot and took a step toward Severus.

He yanked open his belt and wrestled his fly for release.

His dick needed some air.

Stat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chords--Three or more notes played at the same time.
> 
> "Locked Out of Heaven" by Bruno Mars. 2012. Written by Bruno Mars, Phillip Lawrence, and Ari Levine (The Smeezingtons).  
> "During his Google Hangout on the day of the song's release, Mars was asked by a fan to name his favorite lyrics from the track. Mars picked the phrase "But swimming in your water is something spiritual," and later said that the single's exploration of feeling and being in love fits into the 'sensual, sensual and sensual' theme of the album."--Wikipedia  
> [https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=e-fA-gBCkj0](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=e-fA-gBCkj0;)


	11. Seventh Chord

11—Seventh Chord

“Who can take a rainbow, wrap it in a sigh, soak it in the sun and make a groovy lemon pie? The Candy Man, the Candy Man can.”—Sammy Davis Jr.

(Hermione)

Hermione’s jaw hit the floor.

_Sweet mother of all that is phallic._

Her pussy concurred, flooding her folds with enough lubrication to drown a small village. She could feel it seeping from her seam, tickling her with streams of silky overflow.

She couldn’t look away. Or blink. Or breathe. But she could count. It took her just three steps to reach him. Placing her hand on his chest, she felt the quick rhythm of his heart thumping against her fingers. His pallid body was surprisingly warm. Unable to resist the gravitational pull, she trailed downward, over the bump of his ribs, through the patch of black hair bordering his belly button, into the tangle of his pubic thatch. She didn’t look up at him. Couldn’t. He’d know in an instant what she was thinking.

Sinking to her knees like a penitent parishioner, she stared her cycloptic confessor in the eye. Sheer terror gripped her belly, but she couldn’t look away. Was this how moths felt as they unwittingly flew into the flame, the irresistible pull of primeval longing and then, when reality hit, the thrill and panic of self-destruction? What had she gotten herself into?

 _‘Valhalla_ ,’ her pussy answered. ‘ _That’s a_ _one_ _-_ _way_ _ticket right there, honey.’_

_I don’t know if I can handle this._

‘ _I’ll ask your lower intestines to take a hike.’_

_I meant mentally._

‘ _That fine specimen wasn’t made to penetrate your cranium.’_

Hermione smiled. _I don’t think I can even fit him in my mouth._

‘ _Only one way to be sure.’_

_Right. I’ll just conduct an impromptu experiment. Strictly out of scientific curiosity of course._

‘ _Of course. Science_ ,’ her pussy drawled. ‘ _Brilliant cover story, Doctor.’_

_Sush. I need total concentration . . . and possibly a jaw extension._

Taking a deep breath, Hermione leaned in and touched her lips to his red velvet head. Snape audibly inhaled, and the colossus of cock tethered to his pelvis lurched to life like a waking giant. _Oh gods, it’s after me!_

‘ _Where’s your Gryffindor bravery, girl? Grab that thing and show it who’s in charge.’_

With one hand, she encircled the base, and there was a brief battle of wills as his dick fought for freedom. In the end, she was victorious; and she wielded the power of his mammoth mace with triumphant pride. His length pulsed in her fist, testing her strength; but Hermione was ready with a counter strike. Opening wide, she engulfed his knob and captured him in her mouth.

Snape made a noise in the back of his throat, a growly whimper of surprise that did magical things to her clit. He might as well have said, “One million points to Gryffindor.”

Her confidence soared, leaving her fear in its dust. This wasn’t scary; it was exhilarating. And he tasted amazing—not like frock coats and cauldrons at all. More like musky marzipan dipped in treacle testicles. She tried to get a better taste, but her tongue was operating under heavy restrictions. _Very_ heavy restrictions. Fuck, she needed a break already.

Pulling back, she looked up at him, panting hard, as if she’d been wrestling an anaconda, but when she saw the intensity in his gaze, she couldn’t breathe. Bloody hell. His black eyes pierced her to the core, causing her stomach to spastically leap toward her larynx. One long finger ran down her cheek, and then his hand was under her chin, lifting her face and massaging her throat.

A warm ripple of excitement breezed through her body, and Hermione automatically opened her mouth in invitation. With a faint smile, he pulled her toward his pelvis.

_Yesssss. More. Just let me catch my breath._

His hand slid back into her hair, cradling her head as Hermione nuzzled the side of his shaft and descended into the black briar surrounding his sex. The wiry hair tickled her nose, and with a smile, she burrowed deeper to inhale his scent. Dear, sweet Merlin! How could such a devilish man smell so heavenly? Her head began to spin, overcome by the intoxicating fragrance wreathing his scrotum.

Her lips found the dense curve of his balls, his sac heavy with reserves, and she slurped one nut into her mouth to ease the load.

Lucius chuckled richly. “That’s it, Miss Granger. Get a good taste.”

Hermione looked up, and Mr. Malfoy graciously lifted Snape’s dick from her forehead so she could see. He stood with his arms twined around Severus, his chest to Snape’s back. They looked so natural together. Comfortable. Scrumptious. She glanced at Lucius’s feet to see if he’d taken off his trousers yet.

Oh gods. He was starkers. Nakednakednaked. The thought of their bare bodies against each other, the acres of skin, the hard jut of rising flesh, the dueling beat of racing hearts—it was too much to withstand. She was already trembling with anticipation. It was time to get this show on the road.

Where was Draco? She needed him, needed the familiarity of his face, the soothing warmth of his smile. And his cock—his ever-ready cock that had been poking her in the lift all week. Where was her affectionate fan club?

“I’ll be right back,” she announced, her voice cracking as if her body was buckling under the sexual strain. “Keep . . . doing what you’re doing.”

Lucius grinned and turned Snape’s face to his with one hand, his pink tongue gliding over the Potion master’s lower lip before sealing the kiss.

 _Sweet Circe, give me strength._ Tearing her eyes from the spellbinding sight, she searched the room for Draco.

There he was, still in the chair by the fire. Too delirious to navigate the distance in her heels, she crawled to him on all fours. _See? I am the queen of cool, calm cats. Meow_. When she was kneeling between his legs, Hermione gave him a hesitant smile and rested her hands on his thighs. Consternation marred his visage, his blond brow drawn and low.

“You all right?” she asked.

He swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Do you want to come play with us?”

“I don’t know. Seems a bit crowded.”

She couldn’t tell if he was pissed off about Lucius’s involvement or because he’d been relegated to the sidelines. Was he just jealous, or did he think she was a super slag for agreeing to bed all of them at once? Or maybe he thought she wanted his father more than him. That wasn't the case, and she didn't want him to feel competitive. This was supposed to be a bit of fun—for both of them. In the foyer, when she’d asked him if he thought it was safe for her to talk to Lucius and Snape in the library, she’d hadn’t been expecting things to work out the way they had; she hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to juggle the attention of three men, and now Draco was getting the short end of the stick when she’d intended for him to be a guest of honor.

Hermione rested her hand on his bulging placket to test his response. He was rock hard, and when she traced the length of his zipper, the pucker of his frown faded to curiosity.

Ah-ha! He wasn’t pissed off, just worried. Hermione smiled and gripped him through his trousers. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

His brows rose in surprise, but the corners of his mouth curled into a cautious smile. “Yeah?”

“Of course I have; you’ve been teasing me with it all week.”

“If you’re referring to the lift, I was just trying to steady you.”

Hermione snickered. “With your tripod?”

He grinned. “That was a safety rail for you to hold onto in case of emergency.”

Holding back a guffaw, she unfastened his trousers. “Betsy Walker looked like she could have used your assistance too.”

Draco pulled a face. “Betsy Walker is almost as old as Jeanette.”

She tugged on his trousers, and he lifted his hips so she could get them down. Hermione pulled off his shoes and socks as she continued, “That reminds me, Jeanette told me all about your hot cocoa addiction.”

“That woman knows me too well,” he said, a fond look crossing his face.

“She suspects cocoa is just a cover for your demanding wanking schedule, and I’m inclined to believe her.”

“What?” he sputtered. “Don’t be absurd.”

“Did you wank in the tub when you got home?”

“Not until after the cocoa,” he said firmly.

“Well maybe next time you can have your ‘cocoa’ at my flat. A nice boy like you shouldn’t have to drink alone.”

Draco shook his head with a chagrined smile. “You’re a very dirty girl, Granger. An attribute I’m coming to appreciate more and more.”

“Coming?” she said, glancing suggestively at his crotch. “So soon after cocoa?”

Leaning down, Draco caught her face between his hands and tipped up her chin. “And cheeky too. I like that. Give us a kiss.”

Hermione beamed at him and moved in closer, stopping just an inch from his mouth. Would he meet her halfway? As soon as she parted her lips, he was on her, his tongue swiping over her teeth, a growl of pleasure rolling from his chest. He didn’t plunge down her throat or take the lead—he was just as smooth and gentle as he’d been the last time. So sweet.

Patting at his front, she felt for his buttons and began to open his shirt. She’d never been with a pretty boy before, and having a bit of eye candy at her disposal was a novelty she was eager to experience. When she got partway down, he leaned back to catch his breath and get out of his clothes; but he did so while staring into her eyes, which was oddly intimate—and surprising. Draco didn’t usually volunteer such vulnerability.

Hermione rose to her feet to get the blood flowing through her legs again, and a wave of heat rolled down to her toes as her pulse started to pump. Holding out her hand to him, she smiled. “Ready?”

Draco nodded and let her pull him out of the chair. His cock jumped up, begging for some affection, and Hermione gave it soft pet to keep it happy. “Hello to you too. You up for some fun?”

His erection frantically nodded, and Hermione gave Draco a sly smile before turning toward the bed.

 _Merlin’s gnarled nutsac!_ Lucius and Severus weren’t wasting any time, were they? She had half a mind to just stand there and watch them for the rest of the night. They were bloody beautiful, going at it as if they wanted to snog the other to death, hands roaming over every available inch of skin they could reach, cocks dueling for supremacy. Okay, she couldn’t actually see that last bit since they were pressed together so tightly, but she didn’t need to see it to know it was happening.

“You two weren’t planning on making Draco watch again, were you?” she said to get their attention.

They pulled apart, breathing heavily, and Lucius made a face as if she’d just asked him to drink a quart of sour milk. “I am _not_ having sex with my son. Slytherins may be twisted, but that’s just beyond my limits.”

“I’m not asking you to have sex with him,” Hermione said calmly. “You don’t have to touch him at all; but I want him to be a part of this.”

Lucius turned to Snape, who shrugged indifferently and reached for her other hand.

“Don’t look at me, I don’t care if the boy shares our bed.”

Lucius huffed through his nose. “Your own godson? Have you no shame?”

One black eyebrow inched up Snape’s forehead. “Don’t you start lecturing me about what’s appropriate, Lucius Malfoy. If Draco makes Miss Granger more comfortable, then I think he should stay.”

Rolling his eyes, Lucius conceded with a sigh. “Fine.” He rounded on Draco. “But stay out of my way. I don’t want to spend all night avoiding you.”

Draco looked equally revolted. “Agreed.”

Snape tugged her toward the bed and patted the comforter. “I’m sure we can work out something that satisfies all involved. Why don’t you climb up here and get comfortable, Miss Granger. Lucius why don’t you _get things started_ with our guest. Draco and I can . . . work elsewhere.”

That seemed to mollify Mr. Malfoy, his expression softening as a small smile replaced his sneer.

Draco and Severus released her hands to help her up, and Hermione crawled across the center of the enormous bed, half-excited about what might happen and half-worried that she wouldn’t be able to handle it. Someone grabbed her ankle, and she whipped her head around to find them all staring at her bum, Lucius’s hand on her foot.

“Right there,” he said softly. “Turn over. Legs apart.”

 _Sweet baby Godric! Yes, sir!_ As if on cue, her pussy released a stream of juice, and she prayed they couldn’t see the shine smearing her inner thighs. Hermione got settled, and was amazed at how they all moved as one, surrounding her like a sexual SWAT team. Lucius climbed up and prostrated himself at her pussy, his blond hair tickling her thighs like cornsilk. Severus and Draco slithered to the left and right, so she was bookended by their lithe bodies. Snape rolled to his side and propped up his head on one hand. The massive weight of his cock rested against her hip, and Hermione was delighted to discover that any place that beast touched magically became a new erogenous zone. Handy.

Draco snuggled up to her right side, immediately palming her breast, and it dawned on her that it was the first time he’d had so much access. Although he’d seen every inch of her nether regions when she was spread open in the library, he hadn’t actually done any of the touching. At work he’d kept things pretty tame—except for that incident when the lift had jolted, and he’d steadied her with his bulging crotch. Now, here they were, starkers in bed together, and he wasn’t wasting any time.

Thank Merlin.

His hand was cool and smooth, and she arched into his touch as he grazed her stiff nipple. A rush of electricity shot to her clit, and she lifted her hips toward Lucius’s face, a strangled cry slipping through her clenched teeth.

Lucius chuckled and held her down with one arm. “Just give me a second; I’ll be there momentarily.”

His warm mouth skimmed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and she sank her teeth into her lower lip to bite back the moan that threatened to emerge.

Severus leaned in closer and murmured in her ear, “Don’t worry, despite his egotistical image, when he’s in bed, Lucius is actually quite generous.”

 _You can say that again._ Hermione’s eyes went wide as Mr. Malfoy nuzzled her labia and placed a light line of kisses along the seam of her sex.

Severus slid his huge hand across her waist and skated his palm over her lower belly, his fingertips tickling her hip bone. He was so bloody slow and patient about everything. It was maddening; her pussy was already foaming at the mouth.

“And he likes to play with his food before he eats it,” Snape whispered, outlining the shell of her ear with his enormous nose. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Hermione shook her head no and swallowed her scream with a gulp. _Me mind? Not at all. Just as long as Mr. Malfoy doesn’t mind sleeping in the deep end of the pussy pool tonight._

“Go ahead, Draco,” Severus murmured. “I know you’ve been dying for a taste.”

Hermione glanced at Draco, who was smirking at Snape as if they shared some secret understanding.

Wiggling down, he got himself eye level with her chest and then cupped her breast so it was aimed directly at his mouth. She thought he would devour her, but Draco must have learned _something_ from his father, because he proceeded to torment her with the same game of anticipation Lucius had employed.

The tip of his nose nudged the peak of her nipple, and Hermione thrashed beneath him, overwhelmed by the warm flood caused by that incidental caress. Severus breathed a silent chuckle against her neck, and Hermione’s eyes rolled back as her skin prickled with goose flesh. It felt as if they’d all conspired to tease her in tandem, pushing her to the brink with the barest brush and breeze.

And then, one right after the other, they banded together and hurled her into a new dimension of sensation. Lucius parted her with two fingers, spreading her wide and targeting her clit with the slick width of his tongue. Draco licked her nipple with the same care, lapping her slowly so she felt every taste bud, every breath. Severus nipped the edge of her earlobe, and when she whimpered, he spoke, his voice vibrating all the way down to her twitching toes.

“Do you like that, Miss Granger? Once we’ve got you creaming all over Lucius’s face, we’ll give that pussy the fucking it’s been missing.”

As if backing up Snape’s promise, Lucius’s agile tongue delved into her entrance and scooped up a dollop of accumulated honey to smear over her clit.

Draco latched onto her breast, engulfing her entire areola in the warmth of his mouth, and Hermione's spine arched in a spasm of pleasure, her head rolling back so she was staring at the upside down bed frame. “Ahhhhhh!”

Severus must have thought she said, “I’m not completely insane yet, please kiss my neck and whisper in my ear until I’m babbling like a lunatic,” because he proceeded to do the most wicked things with his teeth and tongue, interspersing the attack with guttural growls and filthy phrases to keep the fount flowing for Lucius.

Draco hoovered her tit into his mouth and lifted his head so her skin stretched to follow him. The suction was so strong she swore she could feel it tugging on her uterus. When he reached her breast’s elasticity limits, his mouth popped off, and her boob bounced back into its normal shape, except now her nipple was the color of a ripe plum. Draco grinned and traced the perimeters of his marking with one finger.

Sliding his hand up her belly, Snape cupped the underside of her other breast, and the nipple on that side gathered and grew, as if vying for his attention.

Snickering softly, Severus drew his fingers up over the top of one mound and just barely grazed the pointed tip. “Is that what you wanted?”

Hermione looked at him and was momentarily frozen by his bottomless black gaze. Bloody hell, Snape eyes—pussy’s weakness. Who knew?

“More,” she whispered.

Lucius chose that moment to introduce two fingers to the blitz, and Hermione went brain dead for several seconds. She couldn’t imagine what expression her face had chosen for the occasion, but it must have been fairly amusing to make Snape smirk like that.

Capitalizing on the moment, the Potions master lightly plucked her nipple between thumb and forefinger. A current of arousal shot through her body like lightning, and Hermione ground her pussy into Lucius’s mouth.

“That’s it,” Severus purred. “Ride his face. And you'd better say his name; tell him how much you appreciate his tongue.”

Was he seriously expecting her to speak at a time like this? She couldn’t even remember her _own_ name.

“Say it,” Severus growled, the rumble making her ear tingle.

She opened her mouth, but no words could be found. All she managed was a ragged exhale that ended with a whimpered moan. Moans were words, right?

Apparently not. Severus pinched her nipple and pulsed the pressure on and off.

“Is that the best you can do?” he whispered. “It’s only polite to tell your host how much you enjoy his hospitality.”

Mr. Malfoy flickered his tongue over her clit like a snake and curled his fingers against her g-spot.

Her eyes went wide, and she reached for Draco and Snape at the same time. “Uuuuunh!”

Draco clasped her hand in his, and Severus hissed as her nails bit into his side. She needed something to hold on to. Something solid.

Snape pried her talons loose and placed her hand on his forearm. “If you're going to slice me to shreds, at least choose a site that's already scarred.”

A cursory glance at his arm revealed no flaws, but she knew he still bore the scars of both the Dark Mark and Nagini’s bite. Draco had shown her his arm one night after a few rounds of Firewhisky, and he'd told her he always kept the scar hidden with a concealment charm. Hermione assumed Severus and Lucius did the same since she'd seen no blemishes on either body. She couldn't imagine how awful it was for Severus to be permanently branded by his most painful memories . . . his own death. Hermione vowed to never bring up the painful subject of scars around any of them. Not after everything they'd been through.

Wrapping her fingers around Snape’s wrist, refusing to harm his forearm any further, but also guessing he might not be as eager to hold hands as Draco, Hermione gripped him tightly. His muscles flexed, but he didn’t object to her strength; in fact he resumed his nipple play as if she were no more bothersome than an undersized sweatband. That was good, because she couldn’t let go.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on the knot of tension building in her clit, but then she felt Draco’s mouth at her breast again, and her body convulsed, splitting her attention in two.

“Mmmmmm,” Severus murmured. “You’re ready to come for us right now, aren’t you?”

Why was he asking if he already knew? Hermione clutched Draco’s hand and managed to whisper, “Yes.”

“There you are,” Snape said congenially. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

_Yes!_

“Now just say Lucius’s name, and I’m sure he’ll let you come.”

She heaved out a ragged sigh and licked her lips, prepared to say just about anything to relieve the ache. “Lucius!”

Mr. Malfoy responded by sucking her clit into his mouth and rattling his tongue over its stiff contours.

“Aaaah!”

“And what about Draco,” Severus prodded. “Don’t you find his tongue equally satisfying?”

“Yes! I love the way you lick me, Draco.”

Draco’s mouth curled into a smile around her nipple, and he squeezed her fingers in reply.

“That was much better,” Snape congratulated her in a mocking tone. “Now beg us to make you come.” His pinching fingers flattened her nipple. “You want us to fuck you, don’t you?”

The unrelenting stress of dancing on the edge of orgasm left her eyes wet with strained tears. “Yeeeeeees! Please!”

“I didn’t hear the word fuck. You must not want it yet.”

“Please fuck me!” she demanded. “For fuckidy fuck’s sake! You’re fucking killing me!”

Everybody started snickering, and Hermione almost hexed them all into oblivion. If they thought this was funny, then they’d think it was hilarious waking up with shriveled green bits.

“There’s no need to be rude,” Snape quipped, but then he nipped her neck in just the right spot, and Hermione forgave him instantly. “Is she ready, Lucius?”

Mr. Malfoy raised his head, leaving Muffy cold and sad. “She’s ready. So am I.”

Severus nodded. “On your hands and knees, Miss Granger. Show Lucius your arse.”

The room spun as she was quickly rolled over and rearranged on all fours. Joggled and disoriented, Hermione felt the mattress dip and sway as Lucius knelt behind her; the angular strength of his body pressed to her backside, and she gasped when the thick heat of his knob sliced through her folds, following her fissure up and down as he lubed himself in her juices. Nudging her swollen opening with the bell of his glans, he positioned himself for entry. Hermione’s thighs tightened in anticipation, and she locked her teeth to keep her panicked panting to a minimum.

Someone ran his hand along her cheek, and Hermione looked up to find Snape kneeling before her. He lifted his cock toward her face, and she immediately opened wide, desperate to taste him again.

The corner of his mouth curled in a knowing smirk, and he tapped the tip against her lips. Hermione’s tongue shot out, inviting him in on a welcome mat of slick pink muscle.

With a gentle shift of his hips, he filled her mouth, and at the exact same moment, Lucius slid home, his meaty length skewering her like a shish kabob. She made a strangled noise of rapture around Snape’s sex, and he hissed through his teeth in response.

“Fucking hell,” Lucius grunted as he pulled out slowly, only to plunge in again.

The sticky wet sound of fucking rang in her ears. She couldn't remember ever being able to hear her own lubrication mid-shag, which was surely a testament to the talents of the Slytherin tag team.

Draco slid under her chest like a mechanic sliding under a car, and Hermione almost leapt out of her skin when she felt his lips latch onto her left tit. Her body went into meltdown, quivering as if she were made of gelatin and liquefying her brain to broth. 

Severus skimmed his hand along her throat and massaged the muscles in her neck as he pumped into her mouth. A steady drip of salty-sweet sap dribbled over her tongue, and Hermione turned up the suction to drain him dry.

Snape growled, but it was Lucius who cursed.

“Bloody fucking hell! Stop squeezing me so hard!”

Hermione couldn’t help it. She was used to clamping her pelvic muscles around her dildo when she came—it helped her orgasm faster and harder. Now it was habit, and her pussy didn’t know how to let go. She wanted to come . . . and she wanted to drive Lucius crazy. He deserved it after teasing her so mercilessly.

“Just relax,” Snape murmured, his fingers feathering over the side of her face. “Come for us. I know you’re there. Take her over the edge, Lucius.”

Mr. Malfoy picked up the pace, bouncing off her bum with a clap of skin on skin, and she cried out as he drilled into her front wall, his ample girth making it impossible for him to miss any hot spot that crossed his path. Her g-spot got caught in the crossfire, but her cervix took the brunt of his thrusts. He’d eased into it so it didn’t hurt, but the relentless stimulation had her pussy screaming for release.

Draco splayed his hand over her belly and pinched one nipple as he suckled the other. The coil in her wound tighter, on the verge of snapping. There were too many hands, too many sensations; she was drowning in euphoria.

Snape cupped her head and held her still. She thought he was going to fuck her face, but he seemed to be withdrawing. Hermione sucked harder to keep him in place.

Lucius reached around and tickled her clit with one finger, which really wasn’t necessary. Her body would have surrendered from the internal stimulation alone. But the change in angle hit some new spot, and in mere seconds she was keening around Snape’s cock.

 _Oh. Bloody. Hell. Fuck me. Fuck me. Theretherethere. Oh GODS!_ “Unnnnnnnnh!”

Her pussy locked on Lucius, and the orgasm tore out of her, ripping through her sex like the crack of a Bludger on a Beater’s bat. The release had built itself to the size of a watermelon, and it felt as if it wanted to burst out of her pussy in one huge explosion.

Squeezing her eyes closed, she breathed through her nose and tried to ignore the rotating room so she could enjoy her climax, but it was hard to get enough air with that behemoth jammed in her mouth. She unlocked her jaw, and Snape pulled out with a growl of relief.

Lucius was growling too, but it came in short bursts that matched the beat of his hips. She knew he was coming inside her, and the thought of his seed marking her body was disturbingly arousing.

As her pussy faded into the peace of pulsating afterglow, Lucius gradually slowed to a stop, breathing heavily and gripping her hips to keep himself aloft.

“Bloody hell, Severus. You gotta try this. She’s a fucking pussy demon.”

Draco gently lapped her raw nipple, and she dropped her chin to peer through her breasts and grin at him. He waggled his eyebrows at her and smiled back.

“Let’s switch positions,” Severus muttered. “On my back.”

Hermione was once again flipped and turned in a dizzying tangle of arms and hands. Severus flopped onto the bed, and Lucius arranged her so her back was to Snape’s chest. _How’s he supposed to breathe with me lying on top of him?_ She didn’t like losing sight of him, but Draco and Lucius were still visible, and they were both looking at her as if she were the sexiest thing they’d ever seen. Severus hooked his hands behind her knees, and she was spread open for everyone’s viewing pleasure. Draco grinned broadly and gave her a cheeky eyebrow quirk, which seemed to be confirmation that she was exactly as wet as she suspected.

The dense prod of Snape’s knob poked her left bum cheek several times and then slid along her sodden crevice in search of shelter.

“I’ve got it,” Lucius muttered. 

When Hermione felt him slotting Snape into place, she took a deep breath and locked the air in her lungs, reining in her anxiety with an overdose of oxygen. Did they really think he just going to fit inside on the first try? That seemed— _Oooooooh_.

 _Holyfuckholyfuckholyfuck_!

The stretch was mind boggling, and at that angle, Snape felt like a juggernaut. Thank God Lucius had gone first to loosen her up. Her heart sped to a sprint, and beads of sweat popped up along her hairline. Her body couldn’t decide if impalement was a threat or a reward. Half of her was all fight-or-flight, but her pussy was weeping with joy, pouring out reams of lubrication to celebrate his arrival.

Releasing her held breath with a shuddering exhale, Hermione closed her eyes, adjusting to the sensation and imploring her body to relax.

“Don’t worry, Miss Granger,” Lucius murmured. “We’re going to take good care of you.”

The tickle of his silken hair brushed her inner thighs, and Hermione’s eyes snapped open when she felt the slick heat of his tongue cross her clit.

 _‘Aaaaaahhhh, sweet mystery of life, at last I’ve foooooound yoooooou!’_ her pussy trilled theatrically.

Hermione sputtered out a single note of hysterical laughter and grabbed hold of Draco’s hand. _Valhalla indeed._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seventh Chord--A seventh chord is a chord consisting of a triad plus a note forming an interval of a seventh above the chord's root.--Wikipedia (If that sounded like gobbledygook to you, then a seventh chord is just a regular three note chord plus one extra note on top. Four notes.)
> 
> "The Candy Man," by Sammy Davis Jr. 1972. Written by Leslie Briscusse and Anthony Newley for the the movie Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory.  
> "The song is best known through Sammy Davis, Jr.'s version, which appears on the Sammy Davis Jr. Now album. Though he admitted to hating the song, finding it too saccharine, it became his only number-one hit, spending three weeks at the top of the Billboard Hot 100 chart starting June 10, 1972 and two weeks at the top of the easy listening chart."--Wikipedia  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=AYihDAhVPko>
> 
> “Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life at Last I’ve Found You” is from Naughty Marietta, a two-act operetta with lyrics by Rita Johnson Young and music by Victor Herbert. 1910.  
> But anyone born after 1950 probably recognizes it from the movie Young Frankenstein, where the marvelous Madeline Kahn belts it out as she's "taken" by Dr. Frankenstein's well-endowed monster.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=yeOKWMpsPvU>


	12. Chord Progressions

12—Chord Progressions 

“I want you, the right way. I want you, but I want you to want me too.”—Marvin Gaye 

(Lucius) 

With a sigh of contentment, Lucius closed his eyes and steadily lapped at her stiff clitoris. Her honied quim melted in his mouth like fairy floss. 

Lucius ducked his head and licked her arousal from Snape’s shaft as the Potions master pulled out and drove back in. Together, they tasted like heavenly manna dipped in ambrosia—an addictive combination if ever there was one. He almost groaned out loud, their animal flavor washing over his tongue and laying waste to his sophisticated sensibilities.  

And visually, they were a masterpiece. Lucius leaned back to enjoy the fucking from front row center. Compared to her tiny pussy, Snape’s cock appeared gargantuan, sliding in and out of her like a lubed piston, his length gleaming so brightly it looked as though he’d been laminated in her lust. Lucius smirked and spread her lips so he could watch her inner labia clinging and shifting with each thrust. 

Severus had her legs pinned wide, and Lucius was taking full advantage of the bounty spread out before him. He couldn’t get enough of her succulent cunt. It was like finding the most splendid sweet shop located in the most enticing neighborhood. Her clit bulged with arousal, glittering and full like a throbbing Red Hot. But instead of the eye-watering bite of cinnamon that gave the Red Hot its name, her candy twat was pure sweet craving wrapped in a layer of musky maple syrup. 

“Hu-uh-uh-uh,” she stuttered, her face pinched with desire. 

Severus used his prodigious nose to brush her hair out of his way and burrowed into the crook of her neck, his lips on her ear. Lucius heard the low hum of heated murmuring and smirked to himself, wondering which track Snape had chosen for his auditory assault. Would it be a commentary on how much he was enjoying the accommodations, or was he teasing her, playing the perverse professor to her naughty schoolgirl? 

Lucius would ask later. At the moment, he was enjoying the night’s musical selection—the slick symphony of her lust squishing in time to the primal percussion of Snape’s penetration, the mellifluous moans and glorious gasps filling her mouth like a wanton melody. 

That was a sound Lucius hadn’t heard in years. Snape was more of a grunty growler, which was sexy as hell, but Malfoy missed the way a witch whimpered and purred as she approached climax. Narcissa could drown out the world with one whispered word, one “Yes!” of ecstasy; and Lucius longed for that moment of zen. 

His eyes traveled up her body, drinking in her curves, memorizing her moves. Too bad her upper half was being censored by his son’s blasted head. Draco had returned to her chest, suckling at her breast like a needy child as soon as the fucking had recommenced. With a sneer of derision, Lucius rolled his eyes. _Dear God, Son! Move on. There are plenty of other places to lick this witch._ Was this how the boy was with every woman he bedded? No wonder he couldn’t keep them longer than a couple of weeks. What kind of woman would want some whiny little wanker attached to her tit twenty-four hours a day? 

The thought of sharing a witch with his son made Lucius’s skin crawl, but if he was honest, which he usually wasn’t, sharing her hadn’t been nearly as awkward as he’d anticipated. For the most part, Draco had fallen into the practiced give and take Severus and Lucius had developed over the years; he wasn’t trying to show off or steal her attention. And he hadn’t complained once. A miracle indeed. _If I’d known that a nipple was all it took to shut him up, I’d have hired him a wet nurse years ago._  

Hermione keened and clutched Draco’s head, her fingers flexing in his blond hair as she sought some stability. Snape’s patient thrusting picked up momentum, and Lucius’s eyes snapped back to the main event. Her body was already tense, preparing for the grand finale, and Snape’s balls had drawn high, a sure sign of his impending release. Cupping Snape’s scrotum with one hand, Lucius eased his bollocks away from his body and, bowing his head in reverence, resumed his worship of her alter. 

“She’s almost there,” Snape murmured. “Aren’t you, Miss Granger?"

“Yes, sir!” 

Lucius grinned into her folds. That was the most cognizant thing she’d said in the past twenty minutes. 

Snape growled low in his throat. “Suck her deep, Draco. Pinch her other nipple.” 

Draco must have acquiesced, because Hermione gasped loudly and bridged up off Snape’s chest in a spasm of excitement. Her moans became stuttered whimpers, and the sound plucked at Lucius’s balls like a pizzicato violinist.

“Mmm-m-m-m-m,” she sputtered. “Please, sir."

“Say you're our naughty girl who loves getting fucked," Snape rasped through his teeth, his jaw locked with restraint.

"Oh gods," she groaned as another spasm rocked her body. "I'm your naughty girl. I love getting fucked. Please! Just a little faster." 

"Hold on to Draco so you don't fall off."

Anchoring her arm around Draco’s shoulders, she clung to him like Devil’s Snare, her muscles trembling with exhaustion.

"Ready, Lucius?"

"Mm-hmm,” he affirmed with a low hum that made her thigh quake against his cheek 

Snape gripped her behind the knees and sped up until he found the magic rhythm that left her flailing and wailing. Lucius let their bouncing bodies supply the tempo for his tongue and lapped her in time with each thrust. 

"Unh! Unh! Unh!" The orgasm caught hold, and she shouted in relief, “Unnnnnnnh!” 

"Fuck," Snape growled, a sharp hiss whipping through his crooked teeth. "That's our girl."

A clear stream of juice seeped from her sex and trickled down Malfoy’s chin like champagne. In his distracted state the week before, he’d missed the waterworks; those orgasmic brown eyes had been mesmerizing, and he’d been so awestruck by her hand-holding that he’d blocked out everything else. It wasn’t until later, when they were alone in bed, that Severus had mentioned she was a squirter, and now that Lucius had witnessed her talents firsthand, he could see what had Snape so enraptured.

She was a bloody marvel, a buffet of carnal delights, and he had to see her again. Soon. One night wasn’t nearly enough time to appreciate all she had to offer.

When her trembling had stilled, Snape took a deep breath and grunted, "I want to come all over her pussy."

Lucius grinned. "I've got you." 

Severus pulled out, and Lucius grabbed his shaft, pumping him without pause. After only a few firm strokes, his length began to pulse, flexing like a snake in his fist. White cream erupted from his purpled head, and the first stream had enough velocity to reach her heaving belly. The rest landed on her little chocolate muffin like spurts of rogue icing, and Lucius’s mouth watered as the scent struck his senses. Definitely dessert worthy. 

"Bloody hell," Snape said with a winded sigh. "How's it look?" 

Lucius nodded. "Excellent." 

"Sit up, Miss Granger," Severus murmured, releasing her legs. "Help her, Draco." 

Her head lulled back as they levered her into a more vertical position. 

"Turn her," Snape ordered. 

Hermione looked dazed, her head lagging behind the direction change as she was rotated on Snape's abdomen. Severus scooted her into his lap and urged her to lean back a little so he could inspect his tag. When he pressed a hand between her legs, the hint of a smile lifted his lips, and he smeared his seed into her fur, tracing her dripping slit with one long finger. 

"Do we need to cast an Anti-Implantation Charm on you?" he asked as he massaged the semen into her belly. 

"I use an Ovum Impervious Potion every month." 

Snape nodded. "Why don't you take her, Draco. I need to rest." 

Lucius switched places with Draco, and Snape hefted her into Draco's lap before scooting back to fall in a boneless heap against the pillows, his body loose and relaxed with post-coital peace. Lucius smirked to himself. While he found Snape’s brooding intensity alluring, he preferred the tranquility of a sated Severus. Sinking down next to him, Lucius leaned in so they could speak without being overhead. 

"What do you think?" 

Snape continued to watch the giggling couple, his face slack but unguarded. When Hermione pulled Draco in for a slow kiss, Severus finally replied, "I think we need to do this again. Soon.” 

Lucius bit his tongue to keep from grinning. That was Severus’s way of saying he’d had a fabulous time.

Draco rolled onto his back, and Hermione laughed and straddled his body, grinding into his erection; her serpentine hips elicited a look of intrigue from the Potions master, his sharp eyebrow quirking in a lopsided arch of curiosity. 

"Her pussy tastes amazing. I could eat her every day and never get enough,” Lucius muttered as her arse rose high enough to expose her glittering charms. 

Snape smirked. "Did she whet your appetite?" 

"Wet doesn't do that juicy little slice justice." 

Hermione reached down, curling her fingers around Draco’s erection and guiding him inside. Lucius probably should have been disturbed by the sight, but oddly, he wasn’t. Physically, Draco reminded him of himself at that age, and instead of revulsion, he felt only sentimentality . . . and maybe a pang of envy. While he appreciated the wisdom and experience that came with his advancing years, there was something to be said for the vigor of youth. He used to go all night with Narcissa, filling the brief refractory period with ample oral sex to get her ready for the next round. If he had that kind of stamina now, he'd still be in there, fucking Granger’s manic little pussy until he’d been resuscitated by its clenching applause. 

"What about Draco?" Snape murmured softly. 

"What about Draco?" 

"He’s obviously quite . . . attached to her." 

Hermione leaned down and kissed Draco's face, her lips trailing over his forehead and cheeks as she began to slowly glide up and down his length. Draco reached around and grabbed her arse, his tapered fingers sinking into her soft flesh. With a growl of amusement, Draco confirmed something she’d whispered in his ear and then squeezed her cheeks so the dark furrow of her arse was exposed. Severus snickered softly through his nose and adjusted himself with one hand. Lucius wondered if it was the allure of that shadowed pucker that had caught his fancy or simply the raw carnality of watching two bodies blend into one. 

Lucius shrugged lightly in response to Snape’s concerns. "They can do as they please, but I doubt he stands much of a chance. Once she compares youth with experience, I think she'll prefer our company." 

Snape sighed. "Are you honestly okay with that? You're just going to take away your son's only female influence?" 

Lucius snorted. "Draco has all the female influence he can poke. He's shagging a new one every week." 

"She's good for him." 

Lucius's gaze slid over the couple, who were now locked together at both ends, snogging as if their lives depended on it. Lucius’s lip twitched with the urge to sneer. How the fuck had Draco turned a simple fucking into a make out session? _And why didn’t anyone tell me that that was an option?_ "He'll get over it." 

Snape said nothing more, and they both wandered into their own thoughts, contemplating the possibilities as they watched Hermione’s arse. She was quite the cock rider, and the rippling wobble of her bouncing bum wasn’t just a visual feast, it was downright hypnotic. Her body moved with a sensual grace, her back curling and arching, rocking to the most primal of rhythms. 

The sexual tension in the room was stifling. Hermione’s breathing was loud and harsh, rushing from her open mouth in a skipping stutter. Every time Draco’s fingers skimmed her lower back or danced over her arse, she’d make a pleading noise and slam down on him so her arse slapped against his thighs with a _splat_ of soft skin against hard muscle. But Draco wasn’t abusing the privilege; he was strategically doling in an attempt to cling to his remaining control. But if his ever-tightening balls were any indication, he was fighting a losing battle. 

Lucius twitched with a pang of jealousy when Draco ran his hands over her sides, along her flanks, up the soft curve of her arm, down the spindles of her spine. That was the way Lucius used to touch Narcissa, the gentle caress of a lover, the familiarity of intimacy. 

Their writhing bodies and heavy breathing gained momentum, and when she reached the finish line, Draco’s name fell from her lips before morphing into a startled cry of completion. As she descended from her high, a blissful smile slipped over her sleepy face and Draco pulled her down on top of him, locking her in his arms as if he never wanted to let her go. 

Lucius rolled his eyes. Had Draco learned nothing from him about playing it cool? All that clinginess was going to scare her away. And while a part of him was pleased that Draco’s ineptitude would boost Lucius’s own appeal, he couldn’t help but pity his son. 

Shaking his head, he heaved out a sigh of long-suffering love. There was so much he needed to teach that boy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chord Progressions--A chord progression or harmonic progression is a succession of musical chords. Chord progressions are the foundation of harmony in Western musical tradition.
> 
> "I Want You” by Marvin Gaye.1976. Written by Leon Ware and Arthur "T-Boy" Ross. "I Want You" became one of Gaye's most popular singles. He was nominated for a Grammy for the song (Best R&B Male Vocal Performance), but lost out to Stevie Wonder (for "I Wish").  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=mvev3enJNfA>
> 
> I know the Draco lovers are going to be mad at me, but this is the last chapter from this scene (so there is no first hand account of Draco's experience). But if you wait one more chapter (the next one is Hermione), you'll get his reflections on what happened (and then very soon after some sexy Draco time).


	13. Operetta

13—Operetta

“You belong among the wildflowers.”—Tom Petty

(Hermione)

Despite the mayhem of yet another manic Monday, Hermione was walking on air, practically skipping through the herds of bleary-eyed Ministry workers as they shuffled through the halls. A string of quizzical glances followed her bouncy strut, and she knew the sordid source of her newfound vivacity must have been written all over her face, but she couldn’t seem to stop smiling. _Am I glowing?_ It felt as if every pore in her body was radiating with white hot light. _I’m probably blinding everyone with my sex tan. No wonder they’re all staring._

Draco had been waiting for her at the lifts that morning, sporting his own wicked grin, and they’d ridden to their respective floors crammed into the back corner like sardines. They couldn’t really talk with so many people around, but that didn’t stop Draco from getting in a good-morning grope. His fingertips had wandered down the track of her spine, lingering on the band of her bra before skiing down the slope of her lower back. Forgoing the blunt efficiency of a grabbing hand, he’d opted for pinpoint accuracy and, light as a feather, drew a single digit along the crack of her arse. Hermione had no idea how he managed such precision through the nebulous miasma of her Ministry Robes, but she couldn’t think of a better way to begin the week. He had followed the crevice of her cheeks all the way in until his fingers were between her thighs, wiggling into the fissure like a snake. Her startled gasp garnered a glance from those around them, and Hermione quickly faked a throat-clearing cough to cover her slip. Pushing her arse back into Draco’s body, she bum-blocked any further public exploration.

Undeterred, Draco had relocated, slipping his hand along her side and stroking her flank as he ground his bulging crotch into her rump. Someone must have set that blasted lift to warp speed, because their covert foreplay was over all too soon. As he disembarked, Draco caught her hand and, with a wickedly saccharine smile, told her he’d come and get her for lunch.

 _Mmmmmmm_ , she thought as she turned down corridor to her cubicle. She could do with a bite. And a lick.

Hermione was relieved the sexual conquest hadn’t diminished his affections; in between that weekend's masturbatory musings and cunny convalescence, she’d been wondering which Draco would show up on Monday morning. He had his own agenda when it came to dating, and he’d been known to “shag ‘em and bag ‘em” on more than one occasion. If she had come in and found him flirting with the witch at the front desk, she would have been disappointed but not surprised. Draco didn’t stay with women long, but she hoped he’d put her in a different category. They were friends first, so maybe that qualified her for some kind of extended “mate rate” on the Malfoy shag-o-meter. She could do with some regular physical relief, and maybe Draco needed something from her too—like a date with a detectable IQ . . . or maybe just someone who actually cared.

And what about Lucius? And Snape. Would they owl her again? Did they need a hit of Hermione the way she needed a triple-shot of Slytherin? _Did I seriously just think that?_ An inappropriate grin spread over her face. _Yes, I did. Bad girl, Hermione. No, wait. Brilliant girl. Accepting that dinner invitation was the smartest thing you’ve done in ages._

The whole situation was utterly bizarre, but she was riding high on her victory, giddy with relief. All those years of sexual stagnation had been obliterated by one night of wet and wild fucking. And not only had the three of them surpassed her imagination, they’d made her feel like a goddess among women. She was a superhero of sex. Hermione Granger: Dirty Diva, Purveyor of Pussy Power. Like Clark Kent, her everyday persona was her mask, hiding her true identity with boring robes and mild-mannered meetings. But when the mask came off, she was unstoppable, and none of them seemed to think her raging libido was anything she should keep under wraps.

Perhaps that was what had affected her so greatly. They’d not only embraced her deviance, they’d encouraged her to give them more, to let out everything she’d been holding back. When she’d tried opening up to previous boyfriends, they’d all dismissed her desires with an air of concern, as if wanting something more than a perfunctory shag was abnormal. She hadn’t even suggested anything that dirty, but they had all either nervously laughed off her fantasies or given her that look of horror that made her feel like a deranged pervert. After repeated rejections, she’d learned to keep her wilder ideas to herself.

But with the three of them, Hermione felt as if she’d found some fellow perverts who shared her tastes. She hadn’t even been given the chance to fantasize; they were constantly coming at her with all they had.

Hermione snorted. _Literally_. Snape had shellacked her in semen once again, and Lucius’s cum had been dripping from her entrance for what felt like hours. And Draco . . . She ducked her head to hide her grin. After her spectacular finish atop the Erection of Elegance, Draco had politely waited for her to catch her breath before asking if he could come on her tits. She hadn’t hesitated, excited by the prospect of not only witnessing the eruption but wearing him home.

Draco had rolled her over and resumed the shagging, and when he was ready to blow, he’d pulled out and straddled her waist, shooting his entire load across her chest with the accuracy of a sniper. Her nipples had been been the main targets, but he’d covered each breast thoroughly, taking the time really do the job right. By the time he ran out of ammo, she appeared to be sporting a spackle bikini.

It was quite lovely, and she hated to destroy all his hard work, but she couldn't leave it to dry; so as he lay next to her, panting in exhaustion, Hermione had slowly rubbed his seed into her skin, massaging her breasts the way she did when she was alone, making sure he saw the way her fingers teased and tweaked each nipple.

The look of wonder on his face was the most perfect ending to the most perfect night.

When she got home, Crookshanks had greeted her with a discerning sniff, and at the first hint of his reproachful “meow,” she shooed him away and sprawled out on the couch to marinate in her accomplishments. Despite the continued disapproval from the flat’s feline contingent, Hermione had waited till Sunday before she relented and washed off her coating of sealant. The scent kept them all fresh in her mind, and the lingering aroma was inspiring to say the least.

In fact, she’d been so inspired that she'd spent the rest of the weekend “reminiscing" with her hand in her panties . . . although the shower head had filled in for Lucius a few times. Her pussy suggested the zucchini in the fridge could be a surrogate Snape, but Hermione was too sore to start propositioning her produce. It had taken two full days for her to stop limping around the flat like a saddle sore cowgirl. She probably shouldn’t have gone from no fuckings to three fuckings all in one go. Prudence suggested a progressive course of stretching before any future rendezvous.

Running through a possible sexual warmup routine in her head, Hermione distractedly curled around the wall of her cubicle—and stopped short. _Holy harpies!_ A vase with at least three dozen orange roses sat in the center of her desk like some kind of floral explosion, and a small bouquet of mismatched flowers lay on the blotter beside it. Had Draco sent all this?

She plucked the card from the roses to investigate.

_Hermione,_

_I can’t stop thinking about Friday night. These flowers can’t compete with your luscious garden, but I wanted you to know how much I enjoyed tilling your field._

_If you’re interested, I’d like to have dinner with you again this Friday. And yes, I mean a real dinner. Alone. Just us. With silverware. Think about it and let me know._

_—LM_

Hermione, convinced she’d misread the card, squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed at her lids until her eyes watered; but a second inspection revealed the exact same message. It was real. Mr. Malfoy seriously wanted to see her again—and her pussy gushed out an affirmation that the feeling was mutual. She couldn’t help wondering what he would be like on his own, but she also couldn’t stop imaging how awkward the whole affair might be. They'd never been alone before. What on earth would they say to each other?

Her pussy was sure to talk her into it, and she just knew she’d be owling her acceptance before nightfall.

Picking up the smaller bouquet, Hermione studied the odd assortment of flowers. No two were alike. Gardenia. Orchid. One was a wildflower—Queen Anne’s Lace. She used to pick that as a child. Two were tulips. She wasn’t sure about some of the other varieties. What a strange combination. There was a card tucked into the green tissue paper, and she slid it out, bursting with curiosity.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_If you’re free this weekend, I would like to speak with you. I’m sure you don’t want to be seen coming and going from my private quarters at Hogwarts, so if you’d like to meet, simply name the place._

_Arcanum celans in floribus._  

_S_

Snape wanted to “talk” to her? _Is that Slytherin code for “shag your brains out with my enormous cock”?_ In her experience men avoided most conversation as if they were allergic to words. Even Harry and Ron, who were closer to her than anyone, didn’t like to “just talk.” They blathered on about Quidditch and work, but they never delved into anything deeper. Of all the males she knew, Draco was probably the chattiest; he could discuss the intricacies of Ministry politics and also navigate more personal subjects, like what Hermione was reading or how she was handling an emotional case. But he never brought up anything too revealing unless he was sloshed.

And what did _arcanum celans in floribus_ mean? Arcane meant secret or mystery, and she was fairly certain floribus must have something to do with flowers. She needed a Latin to English dictionary—or a language professor.

"Hermione," Florence muttered, coming around the corner with her nose buried in a case file. "Have you looked at this background info the Justice Department sen— Whoa."

The older woman stopped her tracks when she noticed the grandiose arrangement on Hermione’s desk. Her grey brows shot up, peeking from the tops of her horn-rimmed glasses, and she turned to Hermione with a growing smile. "Fun weekend?"

Hermione's mouth fell open in an O of shock. Florence was a shrewd woman to be sure—with a wit as sharp as her spiky grey hair—but Hermione had never seen her point that high-powered perception at anything other than a case, and she was thrown by the sudden attention. "What makes you say that?"

Flo's smile grew. "I haven't seen orange roses since I was girl. They're the flower of passion."

Hermione blushed. "Are they?"

Laughing softly, Florence nodded. "Most men would just send red. Unless he's fond of the color, or thinks you are, he’s trying to send you a message."

Passion. That was good fit for Lucius.

"Now, these," Flo said, gesturing at the bouquet in Hermione’s hand with he tip of her quill. "These are much more interesting."

"Really? I thought they were pretty, but . . . I've never been sent anything like it. Do you know what these are?" She pointed to the flowers she couldn’t identify.

"I most certainly do. My father was a Muggle florist. I grew up in a greenhouse. That's freesia, gardenia, orchid, yellow iris, ranunculus, sweet pea, Queen Anne's lace, and purple iris."

"Do they mean something like the orange roses?" Except for their medicinal qualities, Hermione didn't know much else about flowers, just what she'd learned in Potions and Herbology.

"Well," Florence said, closing her folder. "All together it paints a revealing picture, but separately they suggest something more specific. Freesia is a flower of thoughtfulness and innocence. Orchids are also symbols of thoughtfulness, but they're much more suggestive of exotic beauty and femininity. Combined with these other flowers, the person who sent you these wants you to know they worship your womanly attributes."

Hermione blushed brighter.

"The purple iris is hope . . . and wisdom. Yellow is passion."

There sure was a whole lot of passion in her life all the sudden.

"Gardenia is sweet purity and secret love.” Flo snickered when she saw Hermione’s stricken expression. “Don't look so frightened. This man isn’t obsessed with you or anything. I think he just finds you charming."

 _Snape finds me charming_?

"Ranunculus is _all_ about charm, and the orchid also has a connection to charm and refinement. There are so many flowers in this bouquet that speak of innocence, I think he's trying to make it clear his interest in you is more than lust. The sweet pea represents delicate pleasure and bliss. I always liked that description—delicate pleasure. But it also indicates a separation or departure after having a good time. You must have been busy this weekend."

Hermione bit back her smile. "What about the Queen Anne's lace?"

"That's the one that made this whole bundle so much more intriguing. It symbolizes sanctuary. A haven. It denotes complexity and, once again, a delicateness."

 _Complex might be the understatement of the year._ "You don't happen to know Latin, do you?"

Florence snorted and shook her head. "Not really. I know Latin names for flowers if that's what you're after."

"Does floribus mean flowers?"

"Yes."

 _Secret or mysterious something_ _something_ _flowers_. "You don't happen to know anyone who speaks Latin, do you?"

She nodded. "Charles in maintenance."

Hermione stared at her. "The guy with the glasses and the notebook in his coveralls?"

Flo smiled. "He's just working here while he finishes his first book. It gives him more time to write."

Hermione spun around to her desk. "Tell Bernard I'll be at the morning review in just a minute,” Hermione said, searching for a quill and parchment. “I can't think with a mystery hanging over my head."

She penned a quick note and sent it off.

The reply fluttered in just as she was returning from her morning meeting.

_Hi, Hermione,_

_This was the most entertaining memo I've ever gotten on a Monday morning in maintenance. Your phrase roughly translates to "The secret hidden in the flowers." I hope that makes sense to you._

_—Charles_

Hermione smiled. Snape had been giving her a clue. He'd wanted her to find the bouquet’s secret code.

Did he really think she could be his “sanctuary”? What did that even mean? And what more did he want to say?

She was willing to meet him to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Operetta—a short opera, usually on a light or humorous theme and typically having spoken dialogue
> 
> “Wildflowers” by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Written by Tom Petty. Released in 1994.  
> Tom on writing Wildflowers: I just took a deep breath and it came out. The whole song. Stream of consciousness: words, music, chords. Finished it. I mean, I just played it into a tape recorder and I played the whole song and I never played it again. I actually only spent three and a half minutes on that whole song. So I’d come back for days playing that tape, thinking there must be something wrong here because this just came too easy. And then I realized that there’s probably nothing wrong at all.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Ozgmyx919a4>
> 
> Flower meanings mostly came from theflowerexpert.com
> 
> *Thanks to julia-augusta for the Latin fix.*


	14. Portamento

14—Portamento

“Hold me now. Ooooh, warm my heart. Stay with me. Let lovin start, let lovin start.”—Thompson Twins

(Draco) 

Draco glided through the halls of the Ministry, buoyant with happiness and eager to take Hermione to lunch. He’d seen her in the lifts that morning, but they’d yet to discuss the weekend’s festivities. Closing his eyes for a moment, he saw her as she'd been in the throes of orgasm, her head tipped back, mouth slack, flesh rippling as she rode him for all he was worth. Draco reluctantly opened his eyes and smiled to himself. Seeing her in those shapeless Ministry robes was maddening now that he knew what lay beneath. She should just walk about all day without a stitch, jiggling through the office like a jelly angel. It would certainly make the lifts more tolerable.

He’d managed to get a handful of her while they were between floors, but that wasn’t enough to sustain his sanity. He needed her scrumptious lips against his, her angelic tongue soaring into his mouth. He longed to taste her desire again, to feel the breathy promise of her praise on his lips.

Despite Lucius’s involvement, Friday had been bloody spectacular. Watching her writhe and gyrate with such wanton yearning, even on another man’s cock, was hot enough to make his brain sweat. Although upon further reflection, hot was a sorely inadequate description. Molten. Blistering. Sweltering. Those were closer but still insufficient. He wanted to lay down on top of her and be immolated in the flames of her passion.

But being in the same bed with his father and sharing Hermione with that pig had bordered on torturous. Just seeing the old man penetrate her had inspired a slew of violent fantasies, but with Draco's history, he doubted the Wizengamot would rule in his favor. It might only be justifiable homicide in his mind. While his first instinct had been to punch Lucius in the face, he was strangely spellbound by the image they presented. Snape and his father were poetry in motion, working in tandem to push her body to new heights. And to be quite honest, it had been exciting to be part of the pack . . . even if he had to go last.

Lucius and Severus had basically taken over the operation, but being the man in charge of tit worship suited Draco just fine. It was his dream job.

Those mounds were majestic, tipped in the caramelized pink caps of the gods. The sharp peak of each nipple cut into the air, cracked and rocky, begging for the wet succor of his tongue. He longed to mash his maw between both globes and get lost in her landscape. All that velvety smooth skin made him want to rub his cheek over every inch of her body, and once he’d begun to suckle her, he hadn’t been able to stop. Even when his mouth had been stuffed full of her pink areola, he’d hungered for more. And she must have been fond of it too, because she grabbed his hair and clutched his neck as if she wanted him to unhinge his jaw and devour her entire breast. He’d been in seventh-heaven.

She didn’t touch Lucius or Severus like that. They might know how to make her scream like a Mandrake, but Draco reveled in the knowledge that he was the only one she’d kissed. The only one she’d hugged. The only one she'd graced with that brilliant smile. He’d made her laugh with delight, and every ounce of his being wanted to hear that joyous sound again and again.

And the way she ridden him! Unh! He bit his lower lip, an inhale of lust hissing though his teeth as he recalled the slap of her sex and the bounce of her breasts. Gods, he liked bouncy! Her moves were sure and purposeful; she was no shrinking violet when at the helm. He preferred a witch who knew what she wanted—and did she ever make it clear what she wanted. When she'd leaned down and pressed her lips to his, eating his hungry moans and whispering how much she loved his cock, Draco had almost ascended into another plane of existence. He’d never had a witch wax poetic about his manhood before, and he was blown away by her praise.

If anyone deserved such ardent acclaim, it was Snape. Draco had to admit he was intimidated by his godfather’s size, but he was fairly confident he could make up for any inch difference with dogged effort. Severus might be a deft lover of epic penile proportions, but the man was as warm as an icicle. Draco had him beat by a mile in that department.

It was Draco she’d been kissing when she came, and it was Draco’s jizz that had been spattered across her tits and then massaged in for keeps. He suspected she had some kind of semen fetish, but he was encouraged by the fact that his boys had been laid to rest on hallowed ground. She hadn’t spelled it off before leaving; she’d gone home with his essence plastered across her chest like the breastplate of a sexual warrior goddess.

Did that mean he’d won the battle for supremacy? Who had been her favorite? Did she want his father more than him? Or was she too gobsmacked by Snape’s dick to remember either Malfoy? Granger wasn’t really a witch who was stuck on surface features, so Draco held out some hope that his affection had put him at the top of the list.

Wasn’t that what witches wanted? Cuddling? Snogging? That was the popular theory, but in Draco’s experience, some witches just weren’t that amatory. A lot of them had all the liveliness of a dead carp . . . and a few had eaten his face with the enthusiasm of a soulless robot. He cringed just thinking about it.

But Hermione was perfection. The sweetness of her snogging wrapped him like a warm blanket. She possessed both a patience and passion that made his head spin. Her lips could peck his cheek with such tenderness and then, seconds later, she'd be exploring his molars with fevered intensity. Gods, he needed to see her!

Rounding the corner, Draco nodded at one of her colleagues, unable to keep from beaming now that he was so close. Peeking over her cubicle wall, he grinned at her bushy head as she intently scribbled across a parchment with her blue quill.

“Hey, Granger. I got us reservations for lunch today. I want to—” He stopped when he spotted the flowers sitting on the floor next to her desk. “Who are those from?”

Hermione’s face knitted with confusion, her eyes fixed on the report before her as if she’d missed something. “Who are what from?”

“The flowers.”

Her cheeks flushed to a vivid pink, and she glanced at the arrangement. “Oh. Uh . . . the roses are from your father,” she said quietly.

Draco fumed. That rat bastard! Where did he get off sending her flowers? Did he really think a couple dozen roses would sway her opinion? “And the others? Did Snape send those?” he whispered.

She nodded. “I was just as shocked as you are.”

“Great,” he said with an annoyed sigh. “So I’m the one prat who didn’t get you flowers.”

A soft smile of understanding tugged at her lips. “Don’t be silly, Draco. When have you ever seen me mooning over flowers.”

He couldn’t think of a single instance . . . because he’d never seen her get _any_ flowers before. Fabulous. He was just as bad as all the other wankers she dated, too self-absorbed for a simple token of appreciation. _I’m a bloody idiot_.

“I don’t need flowers. They’re pretty and all, and I’m touched that they thought of me; but it means a lot to me that you come here every day to take me to the canteen.”

Well there was one good thing—he could do better than the canteen. “I want to take you to a real restaurant today.”

Hermione smiled and pushed aside her work as she stood. “Come over here so no one sees us.”

Draco perked up and slid around her cubicle so he was crammed into the tiny space with her. She yanked him closer, and he found himself wedged into the corner between the filing cabinet and the wall.

Hermione’s hands snaked around him, her arms trapping him in a fierce hug. Draco’s heart raced, somehow pounding like thunder even though it was melting like snow in a bonfire. Returning her embrace, he rested his face atop her head and breathed in the sweet aroma of her apple shampoo; the scent clouded his brain in a fog bank of blissful peace, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to commit the moment to memory. 

Tipping back her head, she looked up at him with those warm brown eyes that made his toes curl, and his befuddled brain saw no option but to kiss her. As soon as her lips touched his, his dick began to fill with hope. Her tongue twirled its way into his mouth, and he groaned in welcome. Screw lunch! They should stay right where they were.

Hermione patted his chest and leaned back to disconnect their kiss. “We should get going. We’re not going to have enough time to eat.”

Eat? Oh. Right. Lunch was for food. Not snogging. Damn logical Granger. He sighed but nodded in agreement and led her out and down the hall. When they boarded the lift, there were only three other people on their way up, so he had no excuse to crowd her in the corner. Of all the times for the lift not to be packed with people. Dammit!

In the lobby she politely held his arm as he Apparated them to an alley near the restaurant. How could she be so restrained? All he wanted was to throw her down and shag her in the middle of the busy street.

The restaurant was bustling with workday lunchers, but they were escorted to his reserved table immediately. That was good. He needed to sit. They got a nice table in the back where they wouldn’t be disturbed or overheard, and Hermione perused the menu while Draco perused Hermione. His eyes were locked on her mouth, his cock aching every time her teeth scraped her lower lip in ponderous concentration. Being so close without touching was a cruel test of his willpower.

“Hermione?”

She glanced up. “Hm?”

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Taking a bath and reading like I do every night.”

 _Mmmmm, baaaaaaaath_. “Can I come over to your place? I could wash your back for you.”

Hermione laughed. “Is something wrong? You never come over on a Tuesday.”

“Nothing’s really wrong, I just . . .” _Want to make sure I’m the only man you’re hugging_. “I just wanted to see you.”

Her smile wobbled, and she suddenly looked a bit embarrassed. “Of course you can come over.”

“Can I stay?”

Her eyebrows popped high. “All night?”

Draco nodded. “And I don’t mean on the couch. I want to stay _with_ you. In your bed.”

“How are we going to go to work in the morning?”

He gave her a confused look. “The same way we always go to work?”

“You do know everybody’s going to be talking if they see us Apparating together, don’t you? It’ll be all over the Ministry.”

“So we’ll Apparate separately.”

“Oh.” She seemed to accept that solution as viable, and her expression shifted to friendly curiosity. “Sooooo . . . what did you have in mind? Are we going to Lucky’s Tavern?”

He sighed. “No, Granger. I just want to go to your place. You know, be with you. Not in a state of drunkenness.”

Hermione nodded slowly. “Are you wanting to . . . do what we did the other night?”

Merlin’s mossy teeth! How could she go from wanton sex kitten on Friday to embarrassed virgin Monday afternoon? Maybe it was Snape and Lucius who brought out the naughty side of her. Maybe he was fooling himself. “I just want to be with you. If you want to play bath time fun with Draco, I’m always up for a go; but if you just want to read or something, that’s fine too . . . as long as you don’t mind me feeling you up while you do it. But I can be really quiet.”

Hermione’s smile pulled wide. “Do you really want to take a bath with me?”

It was a good thing the tablecloth was long enough to hide his one-handed package repacking. “Are you bloody serious? Why the hell wouldn’t I want to take a bath with you? I’d take a bath with you every damn day if I could.”

She looked down at her water, still grinning. “Sounds fun.”

Draco slid his foot against hers, desperate for some contact. She’d agreed, and she looked excited about it. If he was the one she had the most fun with, maybe he could convince her Lucius and Snape were unnecessary . . . or at least Lucius could become redundant; Severus might be okay to keep around for occasional threesomes. “Do you have enough soap in the house to get me clean?”

Hermione looked up, and her mirth morphed to sly sexuality. “Have you been a dirty boy?”

If his cock hadn’t been tangled in his shorts, his hard-on would have rammed the bottom of the table with enough force to knock over the water glasses. How had she divined his most prevalent fantasies so fast? “Yes, miss. Very dirty. Will you—?“

“Good afternoon,” the waiter said, interrupting their game before it could get good. “The chef’s special today is salmon salad with feta, almonds, and balsamic vinaigrette. The soup of the day is lobster bisque.”

Draco sighed as he droned on, but Hermione smiled attentively, as if she were dying to be regaled on the wonders of ravioli. Stupid waiter. Now the moment was ruined.

“Oh that sounds lovely,” Hermione suddenly interjected. “I’ll have that.”

Draco had no idea what the man had said, but he nodded and handed over his menu just to get rid of him. “I’ll have the same.”

“May I interest you in a nice white wine to go with lunch?”

“Yes. I’m parched,” Draco said, sipping his water to dampen the heat wave rolling through his body.

Hermione shook her head. “Just water for me, thanks. Wine always makes me drowsy.”

The waiter nodded and took the menus, leaving them alone again.

“I’m _so hungry_ ,” Hermione murmured, and with a coy look slid her foot up his calf.

Bloody hell! Was she insinuating that she needed helping of Draco drumstick to slake her appetite? “I’m surprised you didn’t order oysters.”

She blushed but continued her smooth ascent up the inside of his leg. “I hardly think they’re necessary.”

“Ready for another go already?” he teased as her foot came to rest on his seat, right between his thighs. Good lord, had she taken off her shoe? He glanced down, and she wiggled her tight-clad toes at him in greeting. The movement brushed his burgeoning bulge, and his dick furiously fought its confinement to wave back. Or perhaps it was signaling for relief.

It got none. She sank down lower and pressed her sole to his erection. Her wiggling piggies tested the boundaries of his manhood, and when she got the lay of his land, she tiptoed to the check point and frisked him for contraband. Draco gritted his teeth and leaned back in his seat. Point and flex—she danced along the edge of his dick like a prima ballerina, foot-wanking him with the most wicked smile on her face.

“I was just thinking,” she mused in a deceptively innocent tone, “I could do with some more of Professor Snape’s custard.”

He didn’t know if she was honestly saying she wanted custard, or if she was suggesting some chocolate-coated naughtiness. “I’ll bring over the leftovers if you still want to play custard costume shop.”

Hermione laughed loudly and reached across the table for his hand.

Draco leaned forward and caught her fingers with his. His skin tingled at her touch, his stomach fluttering like a drunken hummingbird. They stayed joined at the hands until the main course was served, at which time she smoothly extracted her foot from his engorged genitals.

Draco hadn’t been expecting a serving of blue balls for lunch, but he had to admit the meal was memorable. He’d never eat lobster ravioli again without a sentimental ache pulsing through his groin.

 _Soooooo worth it_ , he thought with a smile and adjusted himself once more. He'd gotten a date with the sexiest witch he knew, an entire night with her all to himself.

 _Suck on that, Daddy Dearest. Fuck you and the rose you rode in on._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portamento—A smooth glide from note to note.
> 
> "Hold Me Now" by the Thompson Twins. 1983. Written by Tom Bailey, Alannah Currie, and Joe Leeway (all members of the band). "Hold me Now" was their biggest hit, the record going gold.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=H9694K85Xc8>


	15. Overture

15—Overture

“Do you know where you’re going to?”—Diana Ross

(Hermione) 

Hermione hadn’t felt like skipping since she was about ten, but the urge to pass the other pedestrians with a springing trot was overwhelming. Glancing down at her black pumps and then at the glass vase wedged in the crook of her arm, she decided against it. Heels were not made for hopping. But lack of bounce couldn’t dampen her marvelous mood. Not only had she found a loophole in their most recent case that would keep those werewolves from being evicted—which was a huge load off her mind—she’d  also had a wonderful lunch with Draco and was currently carting around about thirty Galleons worth of flora from two of her Slytherin suitors. It might have been the greatest Monday in the history of all Mondays.

As she approached her front door, Hermione spotted a brown box tucked into the hedge’s shadows. _Oo! A present!_ She scurried to the stoop and carefully bent down to read the return label. Oh, goody! It was the books she’d gotten Ginny on childcare and natural delivery methods. In just a few months Hermione was primed to become a full-fledged godmother, and ever since Harry and Ginny had favored her with the title, she’d been imagining herself flouncing about in pastel robes and waving her wand like a demented Disney character. Except where other fairy godmothers graced their charges with glass slippers or granted wishes, Hermione had something much more practical. Booooooks! She’d been amassing a children's library since the start of the pregnancy, and the collection was currently stacked waist high in her wardrobe, just waiting for the round-eyed wonder of child to bring each story to life.

Hermione would have to live vicariously through her friends, because with her work schedule—and lack of steady semen donation—kids were out of the question. Maybe in the future she’d magically have more time—or a man with time—but until then, she was happy to share in Ginny’s experience. Back aches and endless trips to the loo weren’t all that appealing anyway.

She heaved the box under her arm and balanced the flowers against her hip as she unwarded her door. Kicking it open with the tip of her toe, she called out to her furry flatmate, “Crookshanks, I’m home. Come in here and see what I got today.”

Lifting her arm, she dropped the box on the chair as she passed and headed for the kitchen, where she set the flowers on the counter with a giddy smile.

Crookshanks meandered in and sniffed the air, pausing when he caught the new scent.

Hermione grinned down at him. “Well? Pretty impressive, right? They’re from Mr. Malfoy. And these,” she said, lowering the little bouquet for him to smell, “are from Professor Snape. You remember Professor Snape, don’t you?”

She could swear Crooks arched his eyebrow, and she couldn’t tell if he was impersonating the Potions master or questioning her sanity. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

With a tap of her wand, she used a Geminio Charm to make a duplicate vase for Snape’s bouquet. The blossoms were already starting to wilt, and she wanted to keep them fresh for as long as possible. After filling the vase with water, she arranged the flowers inside and then stood back to get the full effect.

Her kitchen looked like a florist shop.

 _This is so bizarre_. 

After years of solitude and sticky dates with her fingers, she suddenly had three wizards vying for her attention. She was no longer Plain Jane, the witch every wizard overlooked; she was Goddess Granger, sexy seductress and object of lust. She felt powerful and desirable, which was how she always wanted to feel when she was with a man but, somehow, never did.

And these weren’t just brainless schlubs with no taste—these were men who knew what they wanted, intelligent men with experience and options. And they’d chosen her.

She was flattered to say the least. What witch hadn’t, at least once, imagined what it would be like to have a bevy of bachelors competing for her favor? It was a rush. Every time she thought about them, a quiver of excitement rolled through her body, coloring her complexion from the apples of her cheeks to the tips of her toes. The three of them were just too delicious for words; picking a favorite wasn’t an easy choice. They were each so different.

Lucius was sort of a cross between a white tiger and a pimp—self-assured and sensual as silk. Nature could not have created a sexier beast. She loved the way he lapped her clit as if she were a bowl of cream set out for his tasting titillation. The sheer delight with which he devoured her was shockingly honest for a man she’d scarcely spoken to in the past five years. _Oh, it’s so nice to see you again, sir. Have you met my puss, Muffy? Oh! Mr. Malfoy! Is this how you greet all new minge?_

_‘Only when it’s spread out on my bed purring for a pet.’_

Hermione snickered under her breath and fingered one orange rose petal. Flowers of passion. What a perfect choice. And how incredibly thoughtful. Once before, a date had brought her flowers, but she’d never been sent a bushel of them after spending the night with a man. Hell, she should have been the one sending _them_ flowers. That fucking had been phenomenal. With hardly any effort they’d tapped into her foursome fantasies and left her floating in a puddle of satisfaction.

But never once in all her deluded fantasies did she think she’d be getting roses from Lucius Malfoy. He didn’t seem like the sort of man who sent flowers after a shag. He was more like the kind of man who jizzed in a witch’s face one night and then pretended not to know her the next. She had misjudged him. Perhaps she didn’t know him at all. Hermione suspected he’d be quite different if she were to meet him alone, but she wasn’t sure if the real Lucius would be pleasant or frightening.

Snape, on the other hand, was all kinds of scary. He glared and sneered and said rude things just to see her blush. Like a prickly cactus, everything about the man screamed STAY AWAY! But that just made his flowers all the more beguiling. Snape was a man of many layers . . . like an onion—savory but not to everyone’s taste. What would she find if she peeled back all those layers? What were his true motives? What kind of sanctuary was he seeking?

The mystery ate at her, rooting through her brain until she could think of nothing else. No way was she turning him down. She had to know what he wanted to “talk” about. And with any luck, this time she would remain in control of her faculties and be able to respond appropriately when questioned. The shock and awe of their inaugural fucking had left her rather incoherent, and she hoped to prove her mettle the next time round. Even though she hadn’t seen him in almost a decade, there was still a part of her that wanted her professor’s approval and praise. Would her intellect finally be deemed worthy? Could she keep up with a mind as massive as Snape’s? Her last attempt to match wits with the Potions master had taken a severe detour; she’d fallen into some kind of tallywacker trace, which was a surprisingly therapeutic state of mind, but ultimately, not conducive to clever conversation.

Hermione was somewhat heartened by the fact that her body had elicited an equally barbaric response from the usually stoic man. He might have been Mr. Cool when his cock wasn’t caught in the crossfire, but the introduction of her lips and tongue had instantaneously regressed his vocabulary to that of a well-read gorilla. And if his silence was any indication, the potency of her pussy had completely choked off those velvety vocal cords. When the concupiscent commentary had recommenced, there had been a lot of growling and panting between reports, which she celebrated as a win both mentally and vaginally. 

While she liked to believe that he was so overcome by pleasure that he couldn’t keep quiet, she wondered if he’d done it solely for her benefit. He obviously had the control to curtail any outbursts—he hadn’t made a peep that first night in the library. Maybe his grunts were gifts. _‘Here you are, Miss Granger. A token for your effort.’_ Or maybe he was trying to turn her on.

 _Well, hell’s bells, he blew that ship out of the water_. The lascivious suggestions had come at her in rapid fire succession, one heated whisper after another, each dirtier than the last, rumbling in her ear like thunder until her pussy had unleashed a tidal wave of arousal. Lucius must have ingested at least a gallon of the residuals.

But how was she supposed to compare the physical and mental lust she felt for Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape to the friendly lust she felt for Draco? 

Draco wasn’t like any other man she’d ever been with. There was a vulnerability about him that made her want to squeeze him in an endless hug. Maybe she felt that way because they'd grown so much closer over the years, but that didn't explain why just seeing him brightened her day, why his flirty smile made her heart swell, why her pulse raced when he touched her hand. Of course she got flustered and fluttery when Lucius and Snape touched her too, but with Draco there was something warm and fuzzy about the whole affair. He was suddenly so compassionate and sweet . . . and he kissed like a million-galleon gigilo. She couldn’t wait to spend the night with him.

But she was eager to see Lucius and Severus too. How confusing.

Forcing aside her jumbled thoughts in favor of decisive action, Hermione pulled two decorative note cards from her little desk and sat down to answer her invitations. Not wanting to sound desperate, but also not wanting to come across as uninterested, she chose her words carefully.

_Dear Lucius,_

_These roses are lovely. I didn’t peg you as a flower-sender. I guess I’m little curious what else I don’t know about you. I’m busy Saturday, but if you’d like to have dinner on Friday, I’m free. Did you have someplace in mind?_

_Thank you for the bouquet,_  

 _Hermione_  

Setting aside the first card, she got out a fresh one and debated how to best approach Snape. Tapping the quill against her cheek in thought, she ran over several possibilities in her head before committing anything to paper . . . thankfully her dictionary with the detailed etymology was within easy reach.

_Dear Severus,_

_Your flowers were an unexpected surprise today. I’ve never had a riddle built into a bouquet. I loved it. And the flowers are beautiful. I can’t imagine what you want to talk about, but I’m intrigued. I’d like to see you this weekend. How about we meet at the Hog’s Head on Saturday?_

_Sanctuarium offertur,_  

_Hermione_

After sealing up each note, she scrawled their names across the front and went into London to send them by owl post.

The replies came before she went to bed.

When she got out of the bath, the Malfoy’s eagle owl and Severus’s school owl were both pecking at her kitchen window like fiendish Morse code messengers. Crookshanks yowled and paced the kitchen floor, calling for her to come and put an end to the ruckus.

Throwing open the window, she took the letters from each bird, and Malfoy’s owl flew off as if he had better things to do. The school owl stuck around, probably hoping for an owl treat. She found him one and sat down at the kitchen table to read the replies.

Malfoy’s was sealed with a green wax stamp of their family crest. Breaking the elaborate seal, she unfolded the parchment and scanned it quickly.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_I see no reason to wait until Friday. Why don’t you come to the Manor Thursday night? Draco has plans with Blaise, so we’ll be able to dine in peace. Wear that delightful suspender belt again, and I’ll give you a double helping of dessert. Black stockings this time._

_Seven o’clock sharp,_  

_LM_

Hermione smiled to herself. “So he did like the garter belt.”

Crooks didn’t seem to think that was much of a revelation, yawning once before returning to his bollock bath.

The other parchment wasn’t sealed, but folded into an envelope. When she pulled it open, a sprig of Queen Anne’s Lace fell to the table, and Hermione grinned broadly. Oh good, he’d gotten her message too.

_Miss Granger,_

_I most certainly will not meet you at the Hog’s Head. Have you lost your mind? The whole school would be talking about it before dinner, and I have no desire to explain my private life to Minerva or any of the other staff. We shall meet in the Shrieking Shack. It’s the only place we can be assured of our privacy._

_It can be cold in there, even in the spring. Thick knickers would be advisable._

_Noon,_  

_S_

Hermione burst out laughing, her head falling back as she cackled at the ceiling. Crooks and the owl stared at her as if she’d gone mad.

What a pair. One wanted satin and lace, one warned her to wear warm knickers. They both had a knack for demanding that she meet them when and where they decided.

“Boys are so bossy,” she told Crookshanks, who meowed in agreement.

So she was going to see each of them separately that week. Interesting—or at least that was her brain’s opinion; her vagina seemed to be doing a rain dance in celebration.

Hermione couldn’t help noticing that Draco was the only one who hadn’t insisted she wear anything in particular. He also hadn’t barked a time and place at her. After their intimate lunch that afternoon, she got the impression Draco would have been willing to go anyplace she suggested no matter how disagreeable.

She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she was impressed Draco was being so thoughtful. Perhaps she should incentivize his more obliging inclinations and show him just how appreciative she could be. A deranged giggle slipped from her lips, and she ran off to her room in search of a reward befitting a man of his tastes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overture—the orchestral introduction to a musical dramatic work—Miriam-Webster  
> Occasionally, I indulged in a little word play with my title selections and looked at them from both a musical definition as well as a “normal” definition. So in this instance, I did also intend for overture to mean “An approach or proposal made to someone with the aim of opening negotiations or establishing a relationship.”
> 
> "Theme from Mahogany (Do You Know Where You're Going To)" by Diana Ross. 1975. Written by Michael Masser and Gerald Goffin. Originally recorded by Thelma Houston in 1973 (but Ross's version is the more well-known, and accompanied her starring role in the film Mahogany.)  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=VOH6SzDX3l4>
> 
> Disney is a registered trademark, and I’m sure that deserves some kind of acknowledgement. I don't own any rights and I don't make any money from any fanfic that mentions them.
> 
> Sanctuarium offertur=sanctuary offered


	16. Glissando

16—Glissando 

“Look into my eyes, and you will see what you mean to me.”—Bryan Adams

(Draco) 

This was heaven. Draco didn’t need angel wings or fluffy clouds. Just Granger. Soft, soft Granger. How was she so soft? Why couldn’t he think of any word besides soft? Had she obliterated his vocabulary with her kissing? Would he now be an ineloquent moron who just went around constantly muttering soft under his breath? _I guess I could live with that as long as she doesn’t leave my lap. Ever._

The only part of him not thinking soft was his cock. There the word of the day was hard. Too hard. Painfully hard. Hopefully the placket marks in his shaft wouldn’t be permanent.

Draco tried to ignore his zipper-gouged erection so he could focus on the feel of her skin as he slipped his hands up the back of her shirt. _Soooooft. No, no! Pay attention. Must get her clothes off_. _Naked is nicer_. They’d been on her couch for at least an hour, her grinding in his lap as if she were playing patty cake with his crotch. Good God, that girl knew how to move. Why did she never wiggle so wantonly when they were out partying? Those glorious moves deserved a spotlight on the dance floor.

Having her perched atop him in such a suggestive manner turned his thoughts to the previous Friday. Flashbacks of her straddling his hips and riding him like a trick pony shifted his dick into high gear.

“Mmmm!”

Hermione pulled back with a grin. “What was that?”

“Stop! My zip is skinning me alive.”

She laughed but, thankfully, ceased her grinding. “Should I take it out and check you for injuries?”

Draco smirked. Sex-obsessed Granger was a lot more fun than wallflower Granger. Usually when he managed to talk her into going out on the weekends, he had to harangue her into the most simple physical contact. Like dancing. He’d always assumed she was dancing with him out of pity, but now that he’d met the pervert lurking behind the scenes, he wondered if he just hadn’t been dancing close enough to make her love it. “Are you going to lick my wounds?”

Hermione started to unbutton his shirt. “I might. But I thought you wanted to take a bath with me.”

Sweet Circe. _Yeeeeeees!_ The suggestive images had been gnawing a hole through his brain, eating into his every waking thought: her naked body dripping with water, sparkling drops beading along all those lush hills and valleys. Thank Merlin she meant what she said; if she’d been teasing him, he might not have survived the disappointment. “I got extra dirty just for you.”

She snickered and kissed the tip of his nose. “I like a challenge.”

“The first challenge is going to be peeling my dick out of this sticky mess I’ve gotten myself into,” he griped, nodding at his crotch for emphasis.

“Mmmm,” she murmured with the most wicked smile. “A very dirty boy indeed. Come on, let’s go. I’m getting pretty sticky myself.”

Taking him by the hand, she pulled him from the sofa and hauled him down the short hall. He tore his eyes from her bum to glance around the cramped bathroom, suddenly noticing just how narrow the space really was. “You sure that tub’s big enough for the both of us?”

Hermione bent over to stopper the drain, and Draco grinned at the inviting curve of her round rump. Her shirt had ridden up at the back, exposing a tantalizing strip of skin, and he traced the median with the tip of his finger.

Granger purred at the tickle and started the water so the tub began to fill. “I honestly don’t know,” she said, turning to look at him. “I’ve never tried for two before. If it’s not, one of us will have to stand while the other one washes.”

He could just picture her musky little muffin staring him down as he soaped her thighs. “Sounds good to me.” Grabbing her by the hips, he pulled her against his body and massaged her belly with his bulge. “I’ve been dying to get you out of those damn jeans since I got here.”

With a tender kiss to his chest, she danced her fingers over his heart. “Have you? I never would have guessed. But _maybe_ I should take off your clothes first—so you don’t hurt yourself.”

 _Yes, please_. “Practical as ever, Granger.”

“I don’t want any of my favorite parts to get damaged,” she explained with a scientific nod.

Her favorite parts? Did she mean her favorite parts on him or her favorite parts of all time? How did he compare to her past lovers? He wasn’t even sure how many men she’d been with. It was safe to assume he was the best looking, but how did he stack up in other departments? “Tell me what you like about me most.”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “I think you have enough groupies; you don’t need to hear all that from me.”

“Yes, I do.” Hindered by the diversion of blood to his dick, his brain allowed his mouth to speak without forethought, “Your opinion is the only one I care about.”

Her expression shifted, her eyes intently searching his. “Are you serious?”

Draco mentally groaned at his inability to keep his trap shut in the heat of the moment. _Am I ever going to make it through a sexual encounter without humiliating myself in front of her?_ He had two choices: play it off like a joke or just be honest. Draco knew what he _should_ do, but the prospect of an emotional confession made him want to hurl. His mouth, still not on board with his brain, took the decision out of his hands by blurting out an emphatic, “Yes.” _Dammit!_

She reached up and touched his face, her thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone like a whisper, and her eyes locked with his as if she’d never seen him before. The swirling seasickness in his gut was drowned out by his melting heart. Rubbing into her hand like a cat, he pleaded for more. Nobody touched him like Granger. Her hands were magic.

“I never knew you were so sweet,” she murmured.

Oh Gods. Why was his stomach so warm? And jumpy. “Only for you.”

“Me?” Her eyes went wide. “Why me?”

Was she being purposefully dense just to torture him? “Why do you think, Granger? Why do you think I eat with you every day? Why do you think I go out drinking with you on the weekends?”

Her face conveyed nothing but confusion. “I thought you were eating with me out of habit, and I have no idea why you would want to go drinking with me. I’m not exactly one of your party girls.”

Oh gods. She really was dense. All this time he'd been friend-flirting with her, and she hadn’t even noticed. “I eat with you because I like talking to you. You’re one of the few intelligent people at the Ministry. And . . . when I first started working there, you were the only person who didn’t . . . who didn’t stare at me as if I was a monster.”

He’d never mentioned it before, because he’d actually been ashamed of himself; everyone’s repulsion had only confirmed his own self-loathing. Even though it was killing him inside, he felt he deserved their hatred. But contrary as ever, Granger had looked him right in the eye and had graciously allowed him to sit with her in the canteen. Once everyone had seen Golden Hermione Granger anoint him with her acceptance, their hostility had faded, and he’d slowly gained their approval. She probably didn’t even realize that without her he wouldn’t have a career. Or an ounce of self-respect.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face to his chest. “You were never a monster. Misguided maybe—and an insufferable, pretentious arse when you were younger—but in the end, you came into your own. I know what happened wasn’t easy for you. I’ll never forget that look on your face when they brought us to the manor and asked you to identify Harry . . . when you acted as if you didn’t know it was him. You were terrified, but, for whatever reason, you still lied for us . . . just like your mother did. You take after her in a lot of ways I never noticed before. On the outside you look so much like your father, but inside, you’re much more like your mum.” 

He thought so too, and he was elated to hear it wasn’t just his imagination. The last thing Draco wanted was to turn out like Lucius. While the lure of pureblood privilege had enthralled him as a child, he’d learned the hard way that his father was not as fabulous as advertised. The man was cold and indifferent, more Galleon than human; all he cared about was money and fucking. Not that Draco didn’t like money. Or fucking. He did. But if being a pureblood meant being a clone of Lucius, Draco didn’t want the designation.

“See?” he said, kissing the top of her head, relieved that someone else saw the real him despite his numerous faults. “That’s why I like you. You understand me.”

Hermione looked up at him, her brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t understand everything. I have no idea what you want from all this—from us.”

Draco bit his tongue. He longed to tell her the truth, but the risk was too great. What if she just wanted to be friends? What if she fancied Snape or, gods forbid, his father more than him? Even if he had the courage to lay his heart on the line, he couldn’t think of the right words to explain himself. “I just want you.”

The corners of her mouth curled in delight. “Okay. Maybe you’d better kiss me one more time to be sure.”

Hoping to prove his devotion with the oldest language known to mankind, Draco bent down and crushed his lips to hers in a heartfelt surge of snogging. Kissing was so much less awkward than speaking. Words could lead to misunderstanding, but a physical demonstration of desire couldn’t be confused. Could it?

She pulled back, out of breath and grinning brightly. “I think we’d better get you out of those trousers and into the tub.”

“Thank Merlin,” he muttered. “I’m about to snap in half.”

Palming his crotch with one hand, she gave him a squeeze that made his balls throb. “I can see that,” she replied cheekily.

As soon as her fingers flicked open his flies, Draco’s heart put on a burst of speed, racing around his chest faster than a Firebolt. He quickly shucked his shirt as she unfastened his trousers. The added breathing room was pure bliss. He was still constrained by his boxer briefs, but she didn’t leave him to suffer. She deftly drew his underwear over the precipice of his prick, stripping his lower half bare, and his cock descended, hard and heavy, eyeing her like a ravenous wolf. Draco heaved out a relieved sigh. Finally.

“Better?” she asked with mock innocence.

“Immensely. Now you.”

Draco kicked aside his clothes and started on hers, pulling off her shirt in a sensuous swoop. Her bra was a pretty aqua blue-green layered with purple lace. Gods, she was gorgeous! Drawing his finger along the top of one swell, he followed its slope to the glen between her breasts. He intended to sleep in that valley later that night. Growling loudly, he slid both hands down to her trousers and tore down the zip. He wanted her starkers. Now. With him. Against him. Fuck! Why were witches’ clothes so fiddly?

Kneeling before her, he peeled her jeans down her legs and grinned when he spotted her little knickers. They matched her bra. So she _was_ trying to impress him. Witches didn’t put on a matching set of underwear unless they wanted things to be special. That buoyed his confidence greatly, and the knot in his stomach loosened. Maybe he _had_ secured her affections. Maybe she just saw his father and Snape as a bit of sexual relief. Maybe he was the one she wanted most.

Draco hooked his thumbs into the strappy sides of her panties and looked up at her. “These knickers are sexy as hell, love. Were you wearing these all day?”

She shook her head, coyly biting her lip as she carded her fingers through his hair. “No. I changed before you came over.”

So she had put them on just for him. Draco’s grin lit with a _ting_ of triumph. Leaning forward, he pressed his nose to her lacy mound and took a deep breath. _Oh, fuck me!_ “They smell even better than they look,” he informed her through a mouthful of material.

Hermione laughed and rocked her hips into his face so his nose bumped her slit. “Why don’t you take them off and see if I smell better without them.”

What a brilliant suggestion. She was the smartest witch of her age after all. Wasting no time, Draco slid down her knickers and let them drop to her feet. Her bush was soft against his face. Sinfully soft. Soft soft soft. Delving into her sex, he inhaled a lungful of her musky scent and his tongue shot out, automatically seeking the source of that tantalizing aroma.

Galloping Gorgons! No wonder his father had been lost between her legs for so long. She tasted like flesh flavored ice cream. Pussy a la mode.

“You do smell better without them,” he reported in a drunken slur. “You taste better too.”

When he dived in for more, she squealed and grabbed his head. “Wait! I’m all tangled up; I’m gonna fall.”

Draco spun her around and propped her back against the wall, pausing only long enough to confirm her stability before kissing his way up her heaving belly. Skimming his hands along the warmth of her naked back, he followed the dotted line of her spine until he felt the taut band of her bra. Although he adored the presentation, he needed the warm assurance of skin on skin. As soon as the last hook was freed, her final barrier fell away, revealing the bouncy breasts of his dreams. Her perfect little nipples were surrounded by areola of pink caramelized quartz. They were even better than he remembered. Unable to withstand the hypnotic draw, he kissed one turgid peak before sucking a tongue-full of ripe flesh into his mouth. She moaned and arched closer, her nails raking his scalp just hard enough to unleash a pulse-pounding surge of adrenaline. He didn’t know if his cock’s sudden exuberance was due to the chemical cannonade or whether the sound of her moaning had evoked an abnormally high degree of tumescence. Either way, that moan was just for him, and he wanted to hear more.

So much more. Multiple mores.

If everything went to plan, she was in for an exhausting night. He had to show her Lucius wasn’t the best Malfoy for the job.

Draco wrapped one arm around her waist to hold her up and slid his other hand between her thighs, lightly brushing her juicy lips. Her hips bucked once, and she moaned his name in a needy whimper. Curling his finger back and forth through her folds, he simultaneously switched to her other nipple, lapping its stiff tip before latching on.

When she was hissing like a snake and grinding into his hand, he eased inside, where he found her walls slippery with sexual heat and exuding a copious amount of cream that seemed to plead for penetration. He teased her for a few strokes then crooked his finger to find the bumpy patch of her g-spot. Riiiiiight there. Her keening took on a sharper edge, and she clutched his head in a desperate attempt to remain standing.

Draco added another finger and twisted his hand so that every thrust drove the pad of his thumb over her engorged clitoris. With a gradual acceleration, he increased the pace in search of the magic rhythm that would drive her wild.

“Ahhhhh!”

There it was. She was right on the brink, her muscles twitching around him as if her pussy were having a mild seizure. With a pop of release, Draco let her nipple go and looked up. She was watching him, her eyes hooded with mindless arousal, her lips parted for more air. The world seemed to stop for a moment, the image branding his brain like a sizzling snapshot, and he knew he’d be wanking to that memory for the rest of the week.

“Come for me,” he whispered. Some witches just needed permission to let go. He wasn’t sure about Granger, but he’d heard Snape saying something similar last Friday, and Draco wanted to play it safe for the time being. “Come all over me.”

He returned to her breast and tongued the budding tip, gently sucking her to a pinnacle of pleasure. With a shout, her body bowed, and he felt the first stuttering contractions of her sheath around his fingers. Her muscles suddenly clamped down and pulsed, a tiny trickle of fluid springing from her folds. Her body jerked toward him, and she cried his name loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

_That’s right. Who’s your favorite wizard? Tell the world, love. Make sure Lucius hears you._

Her body gradually went still, and Draco gently drew his fingers from her dripping core to lick away the stream of juice running down his hand. Oh, sweet Circe! Was this liquid heaven springing from her depths? Draco lapped up every last drop, anxious that he might miss even a single smear. “Fucking hell,” he muttered. “I don’t know which part of you tastes best.”

She gave him a sated grin and stroked his head as if he were being cute, but Draco was quite serious. He loved her tits like nothing else, but that pussy was divine. When his hand had been licked clean, his eyes darted to her sex, the saturated curls along her slit glistening like Snape’s chocolate custard. _Mine!_ Burrowing between her legs, he sucked up her salty nectar, gorging himself on her want. God dammit! Why had they waited so long to do this? Pussy that delicious should be eaten every single day. Every single meal.

“Bloody hell, Draco,” she moaned, gripping his head as his tongue shot up her twat. “That was fucking fabulous.”

He looked up at her, getting in one last good lick before speaking. “I think you made that abundantly clear to everyone in a ten block radius.”

Snorting, she shook her head. “The flat’s soundproofed.”

“Nooooo,” he moaned dramatically. “I wanted witnesses.”

“I’ll testify in your defense,” she assured him with a laugh. “Oh balls! The tub’s too full.”

She tried to step out of her pooled trousers but was trapped in a quagmire of denim. Draco helped her out of her jeans and pushed all their clothes into a big pile while she dealt with the runaway water.

“It’s okay,” she said, waving him over. “I’ll just let out a little. You get in first.”

Draco’s stomach dropped in a sweeping barrel roll. He couldn’t believe he was really going to take a bath with her. The idea had crossed his mind several times—usually when he spent the night and heard the water running, his cock ticking in time with the pipes. Although it left him feeling like a pervy wanker, he’d tugged himself off right there on her couch on more than one occasion. The thought of her stripping naked and slipping into the water was more than his bollocks could withstand.

“I can’t remember any witch ever giving me a bath before,” he said as he stepped into the tub.

“Really? You’ve never had sex in the shower?”

“That was _not_ an exercise in cleanliness.”

Snickering, she climbed in and sat down across from him. Even though he’d just gotten an up close view of her most notable landmarks, his eyes drank her in as if he’d never seen her before. There were several small moles on her thigh, and she had a tiny scar on her hip bone . . . or maybe it was an old stretch mark. Whatever the hell it was, his tongue insisted he get a good taste before they went to bed. Making a mental note to lick as much of her as he could that night, Draco ran his finger down her calf and marked the route his mouth might take during its explorations.

As if countering his first move, her hand slowly snaked up his thigh, and Draco inhaled sharply when she cupped his balls underwater.

“Why don’t I examine the goods first,” she said, leering at him from beneath her lashes.

“I assure you they’re of the finest quality,” he replied with a smug grin.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Her brow lifted with mock haughtiness, but she smiled slyly. “Lie back.”

She pushed on his shoulder, and Draco settled himself against the frigid cast iron tub. If she wanted to go on an undersea adventure, he was game. Her fingers deftly manipulated his sac, gently tugging and kneading the loose skin; she kept it light, her sure touch calming his nerves. He could’ve taken it a bit rougher, but he was better off safe than sorry in such a sensitive area. When she palpated his left testicle, his dick bounded out of the water and flailed about as if in need of rescue.

Hermione seemed to find that hilarious. She giggled madly and patted his knob the way you’d pat a child on the head after he'd managed to tie his shoes correctly.

“Hello again,” she said, smiling brightly at his manhood. “I missed you.”

Draco smirked and flexed his pelvic muscles so his dick brushed her hand. “He missed you more.”

She tickled her fingers down the back of his shaft then circled his sac and started back up. “Did that mean Mr. Zipper leave you all sore?”

Draco’s eyes rolled back as she traced the edge of his corona with one delicate fingertip. “Yes, he did. I’ve been injured in the line of duty.”

With a featherlight touch, she shifted his foreskin up over his head then back down so his glans was tight and exposed. “I don’t see any abrasions.”

“Perhaps you’re not looking close enough.”

Hermione snorted and leaned in, her breath fogging his frenulum. “You’re all red and swollen; I can’t tell what’s injury and what’s arousal.”

“Start kissing it better, and I’ll tell you when you get to an injury.”

Snickering, she leaned in and extended her tongue as if she intended to lick him, but she stopped short, hovering a millimeter away so her warm breath enveloped his sex like tendrils of steam. She looked up at him with a wicked grin, and his cock jolted in her hand, struggling toward the wet shine of her tongue. Just out of reach.

Keeping her eyes on his face, she lightly tapped his knob with her taste buds, dabbing away his pre-cum like a playful lioness. His fluids sparkled on her pink tongue for just a moment then she swallowed him down and went back for more.

“Fuck!”

Hermione smiled and placed a downy kiss to the back of his swollen glans. “All better?”

Hissing through his teeth, Draco shook his head. “Worse. You’d better kiss faster.”

She laughed and pulled his dick in for more, dispensing a wreath of five breathy kisses around the circumference. “He still seems sad,” she teased. “I must not have found the right spot yet.”

“You’re getting warmer.”

“Hmm,” she mused. “I could cover more ground if I kissed him with my _other_ lips.”

Draco nodded, delirious with so much blood locked away from his brain. “Brilliant plan.”

Hermione released his dick, and it smacked him in the stomach with a wet splat. Picking up the soap, she began to lather the bar under the water, and Draco silently stared at her for several seconds, confusion knitting his features. Wasn’t she going to ride him?

She began to smooth the bar over her body, and while he found the sight stupendous, his cock was seriously starting to ache. “What the hell are you doing?”

Hermione smiled calmly and soaped her tits. “Preparing to give you a bath.”

“What happened to convalescing my cock?”

“Just give me half a minute.”

She rubbed the soap up and down her stomach then got on her knees and did the tops of her thighs. Draco squeezed his knob a couple times to keep it from beating his pelvis to death. What the fuck was she up to? “I think you’ve missed an important lesson on bathing someone. I’m fairly certain it entails touching the other person.”

She laughed and nodded as she set the soap back in the dish. “I was never told I had to use my hands,” she said with an enigmatic shrug. “Ready?”

“Ready for what? Rinse and rut?”

Hermione tapped his legs so he’d stretch them out. “Don’t be silly—I haven’t even washed you yet. Here we go.”

She bent down and pressed her tits to his hard-on, which he found extremely delightful, then with no warning, she flattened out and pushed off with her feet, suddenly sliding up his body like a greased eel.

“Wheee!”

Draco had to grab her by the shoulder to keep her from propelling herself straight out of the tub. Her glistening tits were briefly in his face before she sank back down to eye level. When she saw his stunned expression, she burst into gales of laughter and stroked his cheek.

“What the hell was that?” he sputtered.

Hermione kissed his nose and caught her breath. “I just wanted to see if it would work.”

“What? Turning me into a human soap slide?”

Her giggling returned, and she nodded. “Pretty much. Now everything’s nice and slippery.”

Reaching between them, she found his cock with her wet hand and positioned him at her entrance. Draco gritted his teeth and held his breath as she wiggled him into snug heat of her hollow.

“Watch this,” she said, her eyes alight with mischief.

Hermione pushed against the back of the tub, and the satin slickness of their bodies had her gliding onto his length like a perfectly oiled piston. The warmth of her engulfed him, and Draco groaned as they melded into one.

She let out a sigh of pleasure and grabbed his shoulders, hauling herself in the opposite directon so her entire torso skated across his. Using the insane slip of the soap to cut the friction, she rode his length and buffed his body in one smooth move.

He’d wanked with suds plenty of times in his life, but never had it felt so surreal. Maybe it was the weight of her body anchoring him amidst the waves, or the impossibly satin flex of her muscles working against him. It was hard to tell with so many new sensations sliding over his senses.

She must have loved it as much as he did, because she stopped giggling and started whimpering. Draco wrapped his arms around her back and helped her move, countering her coasting by curling his hips and bouncing her back up.

He was lost in her. Apparently the path to enlightenment wasn’t found amidst chanting monks or atop a mountain of solitude—blissful samadhi could be attained with nothing more than a wet witch and Knut’s worth of soap. Altered states could be induced with a series of soft kisses to the face. . . provided they were placed on the downbeat of every thrust, punctuating each pass with an ellipsis of loving. His name was her mantra, and he found himself in a watery trance, floating on a high of hormones and infatuation.

“I’m getting closer,” she whispered. “How ‘bout you?”

An inarticulate groan was all he could manage on the first try.

“Good. Open your eyes. I want you to look at me when you come.”

He met her sparkling brown gaze and was immediately on the brink of losing his load. She appeared to be rolling through a haze of desire, just like him. He’d never seen her looking sexier. “You’re so beautiful.”

She smiled. “So are you.”

“No. Not like you. You’re fucking perfect. I think about you all the time.”

Her smile wobbled with surprise.

“I can’t think about anything but snogging you when I’m at work—your lips pressed against mine.”

“Draco,” she whispered, touching his mouth. “You are so bloody sweet.”

 _Yes, I am. And Lucius is not._ He kissed her fingers _. I can give you what you need_. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes, of course. I think about you all the time too.”

He perked up. “Yeah? What do you think about?”

She pecked his lower lip before answering, “Last night I pretended you were in bed with me.”

His stomach flipped with excitement, and he couldn’t help fucking her a little faster. “What were we doing?”

She moaned and reached down to rub her clit. “It’s a recurring fantasy I have about you sneaking into bed with me.”

“Are you naked in your fantasy?”

With a delighted smirk, she nodded. “Usually.”

“I’ve pictured the same thing.”

“Great minds think alike. What do we do in your version?”

He could feel her fingers dancing over her nub, and he grunted as her muscles gripped him even tighter. “I touch every inch of you,” he rasped. “Taste you. Sometimes I just curl into your back and rub my cock between your thighs, right up against your pussy.”

She purred happily in his ear. “Mmmmmm, I’d like that. Sometimes I rub my clit against the bed and pretend it’s you.”

His abdominals clenched in pre-orgasmic warning, and Draco held his breath until it faded. “Please don’t say shit like that unless you want me to come right this instant.”

“I’m ready if you are.”

“Well, thank Merlin! I promise I’ll make you come again later, but I can’t hold off any longer.”

She nuzzled his nose with hers. “Stop holding back,” she whispered against his lips. “Fuck me harder.”

Draco groaned and grabbed her arse, which was fairly dry after sticking out of the water for so long. His fingers sank into her flesh, and he pulled her down as he thrust up, banging into her with unrestrained urgency.

Her panting stuttered and stopped, a breathless moment of stillness before the floodgates opened. “Unnnnnnh!”

Gods, that had to be the greatest word in the English language. His balls began to ascend, and he flexed his arse in resistance, trying to outlast her.

Arching her back hard, she mashed her clit into his pelvis, and her mouth fell open in rapturous relief. As soon as he felt the first spasm, he let go, expelling what felt like gallons of semen into her welcoming body. As requested, he didn’t close his eyes, and he was startled by the stark intimacy engendered by that one act. He’d never realized how vulnerable he was at the peak of release, his body and brain no longer under his control, his inner world laid bare for anyone who cared to see. But he saw the same thing in her eyes, a flash of transcendence as she fell under the spell of their union. That shared surrender connected them like an ethereal cord, taking them out of time and suspending them in their own private paradise. The exposure wasn’t something Draco was prepared for—but he couldn’t look away.

Spiraling down from their high, her cries fell silent as she gasped for breath, and Draco realized he’d been saying her name over and over, possibly shouting. He had no idea.

“That was bloody amazing,” she muttered, dropping her forehead against his shoulder with a dull thunk.

His head was still spinning, so he simply nodded and wrapped his arms around her, using her strength to soothe his discombobulated senses. With a contented sigh, she kissed his neck and snuggled into his embrace—which did nothing to calm Draco's erratic heart rate.

When they were both quiet and breathing normally, she looked up at him and idly let her fingers drift over his cheek. “Want to go back to my room and pretend you’re sneaking into bed with me?”

He nodded and caught her fingers with his own, bringing them to his lips for a kiss. “Can we play ‘naughty Granger wakes Draco from his nightmare on the couch’ later?”

There was a flicker of wistfulness in her face, and Draco wondered if he’d pushed things too far. But then she burst into a grin and nodded. “We can play it first if you like.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Sounds fun to me.”

“Will you wear that one long nightgown you have?”

She gave him a funny look. “What, the sleeveless cotton one that comes down to my feet?”

His fingers trailed along her flushed cheek. “You look like an angel in it.”

Her expression melted, an understanding softness settling in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly several times. “I’ll wear anything you like.”

She seemed to be reading more into his words than he was saying, but he was too distracted to dwell on it. “I’ve always dreamt of shoving it up to your waist so you could ride me.”

Hermione sputtered out a surprised giggle and kissed his chin. “Sweet and perverted. My favorite combination. All right. I’d better get you cleaned up so I can get you all dirty again.”

Draco pulled her face to his and kissed her lips. “Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glissando—a continuous slide upward or downward between two notes.
> 
> "(Everything I Do) I Do It for You" by Bryan Adams. 1991. Written by Adams, Michael Kaman, and Robert John "Mutt" Lange. The song was simultaneously released on two different albums, Adams' Waking Up the Neighbours and the soundtrack for Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. The song was a huge international hit, and spent a record-breaking sixteen consecutive weeks at number one on the UK singles chart. The song won a Grammy for Best Song Written for a Motion Picture or Television, and was nominated for Best Song at Academy Awards (but was beaten out by Beauty and the Beast.)  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGoWtY_h4xo>


	17. Nocturne

17—Nocturne

“Gonna have to face it, you’re addicted to love.”—Robert Palmer

(Lucius)

Lucius watched her intently over his glass of Merlot. With the aid of some Climate Charms to warm the air around the patio, he’d arranged a small table outside and set up a candlelit dinner for two. She’d eaten his scampi gratinati—which technically wasn’t his since he’d ordered it from Credenzo’s—and sipped his wine like a refined little princess, revealing no hint of the nymph that lay just below the surface, the nymph he’d fucked less than a week ago until she screamed his name, the nymph with a taste for cum and a set of lungs that could rattle the windows. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Her hair was pulled up in a twist as it had been on Friday, and she wore a little black dress with a wide V neckline that made him suspect a magical undergarment. Breasts didn’t defy gravity like that without some assistance, and he detected no satin straps peeking out at her shoulders. Of course Muggles made strapless bras, but the complete lack of seams was indicative of magical stitchery. Perhaps later he could check to be sure. Her legs were sleek and smoky in their silk stockings, which meant she’d worn the suspender belt again, just as he’d asked. Lovely.

The only thing he hadn’t deduced yet was how he had come to this. How had he come to be dining alone with a Muggle-born girl who had been the bane of his son’s school career, a girl half his age, a girl he had chased through the Ministry and probably would have maimed if given the chance? Glancing out across the dark lawn, Lucius swallowed back the ball of nausea that crept up his esophagus. He was no longer that man, and his former life seemed unreal now, as if his past were a nightmare he’d recently awoken from, only to suffer the lingering unease of visceral flashbacks that dampened his brow with sweaty panic.

At the time, his actions hadn’t seemed extreme. His father had drilled it into him since childhood that purebloods were superior in skill and power, and the promise of glory in Voldemort’s elite army had been so inviting. Who wouldn’t want a place of honor in the new king’s court? It had never occurred to him that having a monstrous half-human on the throne might not be good for anyone. He’d been too blinded by the prospect of power to see the truth.

Then he’d been sent to Azkaban, and everything had changed. Everything. Dementors had a way of altering a man’s perspective. The nightmares of that pit still haunted him—day _and_ night. Left alone with only his morbid thoughts in a dark, dingy cell, he’d wept over the utter destruction he’d inflicted on his family. His wife and child were completely vulnerable, at the mercy of a madman, and he could do nothing to protect them.

In the hellish year he was incarcerated, Lucius was besieged by remorse and despair. When he could manage to sleep, there was no rest; he began to fear the approach of Morpheus, dreading the moment he’d be jolted awake by the sounds of his own screaming. Those screams were the only demarcation between the terrifying insanity of his dreams and the terrifying insanity of his real life.

He’d dreamt of discovering Draco’s dead body so many times he didn’t trust his eyes when he finally returned home; believing his boy to be a figment of his imagination, he’d clawed at him in an attempt to banish the accusing image from his mind’s eye. But of course, Draco had proven to be quite real—and was understandably frightened by Lucius’s tenuous mental state. His son had been right to worry; they’d all been right to worry. Lucius had been sprung from one hell only to be imprisoned in another. In his absence, most of his worst fears had become reality: Draco had taken the Dark Mark, his ancestral home had been commandeered as a command post, and his family was in constant danger. If there had been anywhere he could have hidden his wife and son, he would have taken them in an instant; but Narcissa never would have left without Draco, and Draco’s mark made him impossible to hide. They were trapped.

Lucius did his best to keep his family alive while the manor was under siege, but the Dark Lord had had it out for them. Every summons was a round of Russian roulette. Lucius was just waiting for the day the green flash of an Avada would be tossed at him like a Quaffle. Death was a game to the Dark Lord, and punishment for not playing properly was swift and vicious.

When the final battle had concluded and Potter had miraculously been victorious, the sudden emancipation had hit Lucius like a twenty-foot wave. His wife and child had made it out alive; they were safe. _He_ was still alive. His family remained intact. Whole. He’d been prepared for the worst.

But he didn’t know the worst was yet to come.

They were social pariahs, and Narcissa was miserable—free but virtually prisoners in their own home. The Aurors were breathing down their necks, and half their belongings had been taken as “evidence.” Thanks to Narcissa’s life-saving lie in the Forbidden Forest—and Potter’s testimony on their behalf—they weren’t sent away; but society saw them as criminals who’d gotten off the hook, and they were despised far and wide.

Surprisingly, he could live with that. After Azkaban, he knew the meaning of true horror; and the simple joy of sleeping in the same bed with his wife again felt like a reprieve he didn’t deserve. That was what people didn’t understand about Azkaban and the destruction of the human spirit. It wasn’t the constant mental bombardment of his own guilt and fear, which ceaselessly ate at his sanity in an endless loop of madness and torture; no, it was the loss of his wife’s touch that had broken him in the end. There was no succor in a jail cell. No hand in his hair, stroking his head until he went to sleep. No whispered kiss to calm his nerves. That loss had been his undoing.

His first night home from Azkaban had been spent wide awake with Narcissa’s thin arm clutched in his hand, unwilling to let her out of his sight. After fifty-six sleepless hours of constant vigilance, he’d finally collapsed in exhaustion. No matter how desperately he fought to stay awake and protect his family, his body insisted he sleep.

Now he felt sleep had stolen the few precious moments he’d had left with his wife. She’d been taken from him, not by despots or battle, but by illness. He’d never even entertained such an unlikely conclusion. Who died of dragon pox in this day and age? If she hadn’t hidden the first green patches that had appeared on her back, they might have been able to save her in time. Maybe. Or at least that was what he told himself. The mediwitch had explained that even if Narcissa had come in as soon as she noticed, it still might have gotten her; her body had been weakened by years of acute stress, and she really didn’t stand a chance against that particular strain. Her beauty had been ravaged in days, and she’d died right before his eyes, wilting like a time-lapsed flower.

Dementors couldn’t hold a candle to the horrors of that hospital room.

After her death, life seemed meaningless. He still had Draco, but a son was not a wife. Snape had come to her funeral; he was the only one besides Andromeda who bothered to show up. There were some whispered words of condolence, but Severus had left him to grieve. Alone. Again. Naturally.

Lucius had gone back to the Manor and wandered around the house like a ghost. He heard Draco crying in his room, but he offered no reassuring word. Draco needed to learn how to deal with the worst life had to offer. He’d had that same sniveling weakness when the Dark Lord had taken over the house, blubbering in the dark when he thought no one could hear him. The boy had been broken so easily. Hadn’t Lucius raised him to be stronger than that? It wasn’t Draco’s fear that repulsed Lucius—they’d all been terrified, and he did sympathize—he just couldn’t stand to see his own son so weak. Draco needed a backbone, not a shoulder to cry on. People would walk all over him if he let his emotions run riot. And it was going to take a thick hide to weather the after effects of the war; the name Malfoy no longer carried the prestige it once had.

He refused to accept failure as Draco’s lot in life. Even if the rest of the world disagreed, the Malfoy name would remain synonymous with success. If Draco could escape his past and make his mark on the Ministry, he might find some happiness yet. Lucius would teach him to fight back and land on his feet. The boy just needed a shove in the right direction.

Lucius hoped there might still be some happiness in the cards for himself as well. The war had left him acutely aware of what he valued most, and with Narcissa gone, his desire for comfort and beauty had to be outsourced. Severus offered him something along the lines of comfort—a lifeline of camaraderie and silent support. Lucius wasn’t so arrogant that he didn’t thank the gods for the stronghold that was Severus Snape; the man was nothing if not loyal, and Lucius found his constancy—even when snarky and bitter—a solace.

The revelation about him being a double spy did absolutely nothing to dissuade Lucius’s opinion of the man. His loyalty to Lily had simply preceded his loyalty to the Dark Lord, and Lucius had to admire that kind of tenacity. Ultimately, Snape’s duplicity had saved Draco's life, which made it difficult for Lucius to find fault with the deception. Despite his derision of anything involving blood purity, Snape had never personally turned on Lucius or his family. Even when the Dark Lord encouraged the other Death Eaters to ridicule Lucius and mock his failures, Severus—as always—held his tongue. It was a masterful move; even Lucius couldn’t deduce his true feelings.

At least not until Snape had touched his hand in passing. The gesture was benign on the surface—no one would have noticed—but Lucius knew that Snape avoided all physical contact outside the bedroom, and the interaction hadn’t been brief enough to be an accident.

Of course that wasn’t the only time Severus had silently offered his support. If he hadn’t shown up when he did to snap Lucius out of his downward spiral, he might have continued haunting the house until he’d wasted away to nothing. Although they never spoke of what had happened that summer, something between them had been irrevocably altered. They’d been close friends and lovers for decades, but in the span of twenty-four hours—twenty-four hours in which Severus had kept him locked in his arms—they had become something more. Something for which Lucius had no name. He could never quite put his finger on what, exactly, had changed between them, but from that moment on, the link they’d forged had been welded into an indestructible bond. After giving it an inordinate amount of thought, Lucius was still at a loss, unable to find any words that might do the experience justice, but thankfully, Severus was just as reluctant to discuss the nebulous topic. 

As Lucius healed, things more or less returned to normal. He rejoined the land of the living, and once he began to eat regularly, his health rebounded with surprising alacrity. Unfortunately, all that healing brought with it some mental clarity and the realization that, in his own way, he was just as needy as Draco. A cringe-worthy epiphany if ever there was one. He sought to bury the insight in the back of his mind, but it kept popping up at inopportune moments. 

Like now. He was trying to have a nice dinner with an interesting, albeit odd, witch, and he couldn’t stop wondering how she might fill the holes in his life. 

There was plenty about her that he found alluring. She was a bloody wonder in bed, and he liked her smart mouth. The way she’d sparred with Severus during dinner had aroused him beyond reason. But maybe that shouldn't have surprised him so much—he had always been drawn to intellect as much a beauty, and the girl was, by all accounts, brilliant. Even Severus admitted she had more brains than most, which coming from Snape, was a ringing endorsement. And she was a loyal friend to Draco; there was little fear that she would air their dirty laundry before all of wizarding Britain. She was fierce and sweet, which was a combination he didn’t often encounter. It excited him in strange ways. New ways. Not like Snape. Softer. Kinder. More like Narcissa.

But different.

Granger had none of Narcissa’s stunning looks or smooth grace, but she did have a fiery passion, a spark of life that got under his skin and made him feel alive too. Nothing could douse that flame . . . not even three wizards worth of semen. He smirked, remembering how she’d rolled around his bed, begging for more. Narcissa would have balked at the prospect of taking a load on the tits, but Granger couldn’t get enough. He liked that playfulness in her.

“Miss Granger, may I ask you a personal question?”

She looked up from her plate and shrugged lightly. “I guess so.”

“Do you hate me for what I did to you and your friends?”

She blinked and picked up her wine, sipping it as if her food had become lodged in her throat. It took her several seconds to swallow her shock and find her voice. “That’s complicated.”

“I assumed it would be.”

Hermione sighed and met his eyes again. “No, I don’t hate you. I didn’t like you all that much for a long time, but . . . then I saw what the war had done to your family, and I started wondering if you had changed as much as Draco.”

“Have I?”

“You . . .” She looked away and sipped her wine again in what was obviously an attempt to buy some time and gather her thoughts. “I can’t say for sure,” she finally replied, her voice soft with hesitation. “I don’t know you as well as I know Draco. But . . . you haven’t seemed the same since . . . your wife died.”

“So I’m a man to be pitied?”

A look of confusion crinkled her face. “I think you’re just lonely. I don’t know how you couldn’t be with only you and Draco all by yourselves in this huge house.”

Lonely did not begin to describe the desolation he dealt with on a daily basis. “Snape comes over once a week.”

Hermione smiled. “Professor Snape is an interesting man and a talented lover, but I don’t imagine he compares to your wife.”

Lucius sipped his own wine, digesting the insight. Snape might be wrong about Granger; she didn’t seem to be a walking encyclopedia. Her assumptions were intuitive as well as empathetic. He wasn’t used to anyone probing his side of the story. “That’s putting it lightly.”

Her smile grew. “Is that why you asked me here tonight, for a woman’s company?”

Lucius nodded slowly. “I guess I did. That and I like the way you fuck.”

Even though she blushed and looked down at her plate, she grinned broadly. “That’s not a compliment I hear too often.”

Her blush was charming, and Lucius longed to run his fingers along the pink warmth creeping over her cheek. “Maybe you just never had the right man to bring it out in you.”

He realized as soon as he said it that conceit might not be the most advantageous route to take with a Gryffindor. When she met his gaze, her eyes were sparking with defiance, and the cool tone of her, “Perhaps,” made it clear that he shouldn’t assume he was the one inspiring her lust.

Lucius couldn’t restrain the twitch of his lips. Her dismissal did nothing but ignite his determination. Despite what many people thought, Lucius did actually like to work—and Hermione Granger was a provocative goal. Her independence and spitfire attitude weren’t deterrents, they were rewards. And he now knew why the Gryffindor mascot was a lion—it wasn’t their bravery or courage, it was because when you crossed one, you saw your life flash before your eyes. Stepping into her territory made the hair on the back of his neck reach for the sky. His pulse thumped painfully along the side of his neck, but he projected no fear. This was his chance to walk on the wild side, to feel the adrenaline rush of the chase as he approached this lioness among women.

He had to advance with confidence . . . and caution.

“Would you care to take a walk before dessert is served? Some of the flowers are just beginning to bloom, and they’re quite lovely in the moonlight.”

Immediately detecting his tactical shift, her eyes narrowed to wary slits. “These shoes are more form than function,” she said, glancing down at her heels in spurious apology.

Lucius smirked. “Just around the patio. It won’t take but a moment.” He rose and extended his hand in invitation.

She regarded his hand far longer than polite, but finally nodded and said ,“Very well,” as she slipped her fingers over his palm.

Maintaining his mask of courteousness, Lucius inwardly cheered with triumph. He’d made physical contact. The lioness was warming to him.

Ever the gentleman, he offered her his arm, and she scrutinized it for only a moment before hooking her hand into the crook of his elbow. Motioning to the right, he led her along the perimeter of the patio, strolling beside the flower beds at a leisurely pace to prolong their connection.

“You look lovely tonight,” he said softly, watching her reaction from the corner of his eye.

Her eyes flashed to his face, and he saw the reservation ripple across her features. She thought he was using a line on her, lulling her into complacency. He wasn’t. Not at all. She looked fashionable and sexy, the wide V of her neckline almost exposing her shoulders. It was the kind of dress that made a man want to dip a witch low and run his mouth over the naked planes of her breastbone.

“Thank you,” she replied carefully. “You look nice too.”

 _I know_. His appearance had been planned down to the very last detail, everything chosen to present him in the best light. “You’re too kind, Miss Granger. It’s not too chilly for you, is it? The warming charm doesn’t extend this far.”

“It’s just a little breezy. Not too bad for this time of year.” Her words were light, no suspicion coloring her tone.

Lucius unwound his arm from her hand and pulled her into his side—an obvious attempt to put the moves on her couched in the pretense of warmth. When she looked up at him with amused exasperation, he smiled and drew his thumb along the smooth curve of her shoulder. “Wouldn’t want you to catch cold,” he purred, not bothering to conceal his devious intentions.

She shook her head but didn’t pull away.

“Are your feet holding up so far?”

Hermione snorted under her breath. “If I say no, are you planning to carry me the rest of the way?”

 _Only if you want to ride on my shoulders the wrong way round_. “No,” he said innocently. “I was merely checking if we needed to turn back.”

“I’m fine,” she said, a hint of laughter in her voice.

Lucius took her to the far edge of the stone walkway and then stopped to look out over the garden. “See there, the azaleas are just starting to bud.”

“Where?”

He pointed to the large bush near the side of the house. The lights from inside cast a warm glow over one half, leaving the side that faced them in inky shadows.

“Oh, yes,” she said brightly. “Does it always bloom this early?”

“No, it seems the warm weather has inspired it to come early.”

He could tell by her silence that the innuendo hadn’t been lost on her.

Lucius gestured toward the yard. “There are actually flowers already blooming further on, but it’s far too dark to see them from here. However”—he dipped his head, bringing his mouth closer to her ear—”if you close your eyes, you might be able to smell them.”

She didn’t pull away from his blatant come-on, but she didn’t do anything to encourage it either. Lucius was amused by her restraint. They both knew perfectly well why she’d come over that night . . . wearing that perfect little black dress.

“I smell nothing,” she commented with a saccharine sweet smile.

“Are your eyes closed?”

“No.”

Lucius turned his body into hers and ran his fingers along the slope of her shoulder and neck. “Indulge me for a moment. I promise not to strike while you’re sightless.”

Smiling reluctantly, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

“Do you smell it?” he whispered, his mouth brushing her ear. “I know of only one bud that smells so sweet. It’s the nectar, you see. The night air draws it out until it’s spilling down the stamen.”

When his pinky grazed the nape of her neck, she shivered.

“Now I’m certain I smell nothing,” Granger shot back with a grin, but her eyes remained closed.

Lucius chuckled under his breath and pressed his nose to her throat, inhaling deeply as he circled her waist with one hand and pulled her closer. “It’s a subtle scent. Unforgettable, actually. Well worth the effort.”

Her head tipped to the side in a wordless invitation. “You do make it sound enticing. I had no idea you were such a nature-lover.”

Skimming his lips along the line of her throat, he hummed in response. “Mmmmm. I appreciate all the beauty this world has to offer.”

When his teeth scraped her skin in a playful nip, she gasped and burst into a smile.

“Can you imagine my luck when such a beautiful witch agreed to dine with me tonight?” Her skin tasted divine, and he laved the love bite he’d left just to make sure he didn’t forget her flavor anytime soon.

“Oh, you _are_ laying it on rather thick now, Mr. Malfoy,” she huffed through her giggling.

He drew back and gave her a warning look. “How dare you insult my date? Apologize this instant!”

A brief wrinkle of consternation marred her brow, but then, when she figured out he was playing with her, the corners of her mouth curled in relief. “Are you quite finished? I think it’s time for dessert.” Turning on her heel, she started back toward the table.

Lucius hurried after her. He had no intention of letting her off the hook so easily. Slipping his arm back around her shoulders, he slowed her brisk pace to a stroll. “I get the feeling you aren’t used to a man declaring his desire for you.”

She swallowed and looked away for a moment before answering. “No, I’m not. But I don’t think that’s the issue here.”

“No?”

“I think it’s that it’s you. Oh! I didn’t mean that as an insult.”

Lucius wasn’t insulted so much as confused. “What _did_ you mean?”

“Just that . . . it all sounds so strange coming from you. You’re so . . . polished.”

That had not been what he was expecting her to say, but he found her delivery of that descriptor humorous. “You doubt my sincerity then?”

She bit her lower lip in the most adorable way, and Lucius had the urge to kiss away the teeth marks. _No. Not yet. Give her time_.

After a moment of thought, which stopped her in her tracks, she looked utterly dumbfounded. “I think it would be rather insulting to say yes . . . and I’m not totally sure I believe that. You’ve been quite honest with me so far.”

Lucius had to bite his tongue to keep from beaming. Some part of him was insanely pleased with her assessment, and he wasn’t sure why. And Lucius didn’t beam at anyone. At least he hadn’t in a while. Perhaps he could test it out in the mirror later and see how it looked on him. “If it’s honesty that turns you on, I could tell you some things that would soak your knickers in no time flat.”

Her lips wobbled with mirth. “I am rather fond of honesty, now that you mention it.”

Lucius leaned closer and almost laughed when she tensed. He suddenly understood why she’d been so hard to read. The girl was still frightened of him—and after their talk the week before, he understood the reasons why immediately. She might want him sexually, but they were, for all intents and purposes, strangers. And this was their first time alone. All week he’d been dreaming of having her to himself; but his eagerness had blinded him to the reality of the situation. She didn’t know the Lucius Malfoy he’d become.

Moving slowly so as not to startle her, he cupped her cheek and brushed his lips across her forehead before placing a gentle kiss to her temple. Her abnormal stillness told him just how nervous she was, but he couldn’t help noticing she didn’t flinch away either.

Stroking her jaw with the pad of his thumb, he sought to soothe her. There was no need to push her in any direction. She would come to him when she was ready for more. “I assure you,” he murmured low, “that I’ve meant every word spoken here tonight. You look absolutely ravishing. I count myself a lucky man to have spent the evening with you.”

She relaxed just a little.

“I know we don’t know each other well, but I find myself . . . drawn to you . . . thinking about you when I’m alone. You’re a thought-provoking witch.”

He kissed the air next to her cheek, teasing her with the side of his lips. “Would you like to know what I’ve been thinking about?”

She gave him a small nod in answer.

Breathing softly against her ear, he whispered in his most seductive voice, “I’ve been thinking . . . that . . . I’ve never seen anyone go toe-to-toe with Snape’s snark as well as you did, and I don’t think I’ve stopped laughing about it all week.”

A breathy explosion of silent laughter breezed his face, and Lucius chuckled too. “My sentiments exactly.”

Hermione leaned into his hand like a cat, and Lucius shuddered as a blissful jolt wracked his gut with pleasure. He’d earned a shred of trust from his lioness.

“Between the fits of laughter, I must admit my imagination was less than noble,” he confessed lightly.

Her smile made the curve of her jaw flex in his palm.

Thank Merlin she wasn’t offended. “My brain seems to be fixated on the idea of you spread out naked before the fire . . . your hand between your thighs.”

The stuttered release of her exhale betrayed the growing level of her arousal.

“You always put on an excellent show in my imagination . . . spreading your legs so I can see everything, panting my name as you ride the edge of release.”

The warmth of her blush singed his hand.

“The sound of your voice so sweet,” he murmured, his own voice barely audible. “Begging me to make you come.”

Swallowing hard, she nodded.

Lucius bit his tongue to keep from laughing. “Yes? You want to come?”

She nodded again.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Your tongue,” she whispered.

Stifling his snort, Lucius licked the shell of her ear. “What else?”

Her hand rose, and she grasped his wrist. It was the touch he’d been waiting for. If he wanted her calm enough to come, she had to call the shots.

“More,” she pleaded.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about this week . . . my tongue between your legs . . . licking your sweet little pussy until the juice is running down my chin?”

“Yes, sir.”

Lucius almost doubled over in hysterics. Sir already? He’d prefer it if she called him by his name, but she obviously got off on the honorific, and he had no intention of snatching away her sexual security blanket. “Say it. Beg me to make you come.”

Her body began to tremble, her breathing so labored he was afraid she was going to pass out. “Please, sir.” There was a lengthy pause before she whispered, “Please lick my clit—make me come.”

Except for the continued ticking of his thumb along her jaw, he didn’t move. “And what should I do about this persistent bulge in my trousers? It _is_ getting rather uncomfortable, and I’m sure you have all sorts of helpful ideas about what I could do with it.”

“Fuck me with it!”

He could hear her smile, and the enthusiasm of her demand made his cock throb. “Fuck you with it? That does sound pleasant.” Without warning, he wrapped his other arm around her waist and lifted her off her feet. In three strides he had her pressed against the brick wall, snuggled into the corner where the bay of the drawing room protruded from the house. She was clearly shocked by the sudden relocation, but beyond a quiet gasp, she made no protest. Grabbing the hem of her skirt in both hands, he heaved it up over the curve of her arse and dropped to one knee before her.

“Ohhh,” he laughed. “No wonder you were so chilly earlier; you’ve forgotten your knickers again.”

She was panting too hard to answer, staring at him as if she couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

Lucius smiled up at her and slid one hand along the back of her thigh until he reached the strip of bare skin just beneath her bum. “I find a nice stocking rounds off a meal beautifully, don’t you?”

He gave her no chance to answer before plundering the slick line of her slit.

“Ahhh!”

Chuckling at her inarticulate cries, he lapped though her folds, groaning in delight at the deliquescent bounty dripping from her core. She was so different from Narcissa—the noises she made, the smell of sex, the feel of her fur against his mouth. Narcissa’s flaxen pubic hair was so sparse it was almost transparent; Hermione’s bush was thicker, but so strikingly soft he didn’t mind the extra padding. His nose pressed to her puffy pubis, and he scooped up a tongue full of her nectar with one long swipe. 

Fucking hell! How could she taste _better_ than he remembered? How was that even possible? Did she bathe in honey? Dip her pudenda in a tub of strawberries and champagne? Even Snape’s custard paled in comparison. He closed his eyes in ecstasy and sucked the salty musk from her inner labia. Magnifique.

Cupping the back of her knee, he pressed her leg to her chest and exposed the entirety of her juicy gorge. The shadows made it difficult to see, but even in the soft light of the moon, he could see how pink and ripe she was. Lucius planted his face between her thighs and lapped at her clit, eager to hear her lose control.

She grasped his hair to keep her balance and moaned quietly. The sloppy squelch of her flooded cunt echoed against the stone walls and rang through the garden like an erotic amphitheater. Lucius could have come from that sound alone, a sodden testament to his talents.

“Uh!”

She was close. Unzipping his flies with one hand, he pulled out his cock and tested its durability with a quick volley of strokes. He was hard enough to drill a hole through the wall, but thankfully there was a much softer option glistening before him.

Right as she was nearing the home stretch, Lucius pulled back and dropped her leg.

“No!”

Smirking, he stood and, with both hands under her arse, hoisted her up against the wall. “Don’t fret, my pet. I’ll get you there in no time at all.”

Her legs encircled his waist, and Lucius reached down to align himself with her entrance. As soon as he had his glans nudged into her opening, she growled and dropped her hips, sinking half his length into her molten core with no preamble or preparation. They both inhaled sharply, and Granger’s eyes went wide, as if she’d forgotten what it felt like to be fucked. Her jaw fell slack, and the ragged heat of her exhale steamed his neck.

“Just relax,” he muttered, catching his breath and easing in the rest of the way. “I want you to enjoy this.”

The impossible tightness of her walls clutched at his length as he drew back and slid in again. Her muscles had a mind of their own, pulling him one way then the next, trapping him in place and milking him with the dexterity of a fist. He remembered the unbearable clamp of Narcissa’s virginity the first time he’d taken her, but Granger’s squeezing was nothing like that. This was the supple strength of a champion, the articulation of an artist.

Her body gave in to his gentle rocking, accepting the intrusion with a surge of lubrication. Lucius grunted and picked up the pace. “How’s that?” he panted. “Do you want it harder?”

She nodded vigorously, squirming his dick even deeper with a sinuous swirl of her pelvis. “Mmmmmm!”

Lucius hissed and grabbed her by the hips. “Are you ready to come for me?”

“Will you kiss my neck again—like you did last time?”

He grinned. “Did you you like that? Is that why you wore this pretty dress for me?”

“Yes, sir!”

His belly clenched, whether from the sir or the confirmation that she wanted him, Lucius couldn’t be sure. He latched onto her throat, and she thrashed in his arms like an animal. Holding her tighter, he nipped the side of her neck and laved her jugular, flickering his tongue over her thundering pulse. When he started to suck, she gasped and rode him so hard he had to completely stop thrusting so he could concentrate on keeping her impaled.

“Ride me, love,” he growled in her ear, spurring her on. “Rub that little clit against me. I know you’re ready to come. Show me what that pussy can do.”

“Uuuuunh!”

Her walls fluttered in warning, and then the contractions were tearing at his cock, compacting him with the strength of ten Grangers plus two.

“Lucius!” Her cry came at the top of the arch, her muscles furiously twitching around him.

He continued to pound her as she rolled over the residual peaks. His balls dripped with the outpouring of her release, and the wet slap of his sac against her arse was so perversely gratifying that he almost thanked her for the privilege. “You are so fucking sexy when you come. Say my name again. I want to make sure you don’t forget who made you scream like that.”

“Lucius,” she whispered. Her lips found his jaw, and his stomach clenched as she kissed a sweet path to his ear. “Come inside me, Lucius. I want to feel you dripping out of me all night.”

If madness could be induced with one phrase, that might have been it. His hips found a new gear; the delightfully vulgar sound of flesh against flesh filled the outdoors. Her tongue traced the shell of his ear, and he almost went over the edge right then.

“I love the way you fuck me, Lucius.”

“Mmm,” he grunted. His sac contracted, and his belly turned to marble as the pressure burst from his balls. “Fuck!”

“Yessss,” she crooned, her breath warm on his ear. “That’s my cream now.”

Lucius gradually stilled as his balls ran dry. He leaned into the wall for support and rested his forehead against her shoulder. Panting, he closed his eyes and muttered, “You’re a little cum queen, aren’t you?”

She laughed softly and kissed his damp neck. “Did you like that?”

“Very much so.”

“Me too. Don’t pull out yet, okay?”

Beaming into the shadows, he nodded once. “As you wish, your majesty.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Addicted to Love" by Robert Palmer. 1986. Written by Robert Palmer. The song was originally going to be a duet with Chaka Khan, but Khan's record label wouldn't release her to work on Palmer's label. She is still credited for the vocal arrangements in the album's liner notes.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=XcATvu5f9vE>
> 
> Nocturne--A musical composition that is inspired by, or evocative of, the night. --Wikipedia.
> 
> Scampi gratinati--broiled scampi with aromatic breading.
> 
> "Ten Grangers plus two" is, of course, a play on Dr. Seuss's "ten Grinches plus two" line.
> 
> The line "Alone. Again. Naturally." that Lucius references is from the song "Alone Again (Naturally)" by Irish singer-songwriter, Gilbert O'Sullivan. 1972. (And, yes, Lucius would know a Muggle song. The reasons will be revealed in a future chapter.)  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=D_P-v1BVQn8>


	18. Ayre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my Sevmione fans are a patient lot :)

18—Ayre

"Am I just fooling myself, that she’ll stop the pain?"—Patrick Swayze

(Severus) 

Snape went still, the creak of weathered floorboards alerting him to her presence. It was a wonder he’d heard anything at all over the high-pitched howl blustering between the slats. Thankfully his cloak was thick, and he’d chosen the warmest corner of the shack for their confab. A dense layer of dust powdered everything in sight, but a simple spell had one of the chairs acceptable for sitting. Rays of afternoon sunlight filtered through the ill-joined walls, causing the floating dust motes to glitter in midair like snowflakes. The setting was eerily peaceful, but also a touch forsaken.

It suited him.

The Shrieking Shack was not an unfamiliar haunt for the sullen Potions master. He visited often. No one knew where he disappeared to for hours at a time; they’d probably consider it odd—or, more likely, disturbing. Not only was the hovel unfit for human habitation, it was the scene of a grisly murder. 

His own. 

Within those four walls he’d danced with death.

Fortunately, it had been a short number.

It turned out that two phials of Temporariam Mortem actually could put a stopper in death. He _had_ crossed over . . . just not for long. Apparently there really was no rest for the wicked—no eternal rest anyway. At least not in his case.

Waking up in a pool of his own blood had been rather unsettling, but Severus had sacrificed too much to leave the fate of the wizarding world in the hands of a teenage boy who had all the discipline of an untrained puppy. What if, after deciding that martyrdom wasn’t his cup of tea, the boy came to his senses and ran? What if whatever plan Dumbledore had set in motion didn’t work? What if that noseless ghoul survived? The burden of killing the Dark Lord would fall to Snape if Potter was unsuccessful.

He had no idea how long he’d lain there before waking up and regaining his strength, but by the time he’d stumbled back to the castle, Potter had already met with destiny and fulfilled the prophecy.

Just like that.

In the blink of an eye, the world as he knew it was no more.

Narcissa had found him dazed and weak, slumped at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She’d taken him to Poppy, who had reluctantly treated his wounds—until Saint Potter showed up and made a fuss, explaining that Severus had been helping him all along and prattling on about how he’d thought Snape was dead. 

He didn’t want the boy’s help. But like most things in his life, Severus got a lot of what he didn’t want. Harry had been the star witness at his trial, and the Potter fame had not only secured Snape’s freedom, it had earned him an Order of Merlin First Class. The pomp and spectacle of that “honor” disgusted him—but he had to admit the official seal of approval did make his daily life less torturous. No one shrank from him in terror or cursed him in the streets. No hate mail exploded in his face at the breakfast table. He could go about his day unencumbered by the public’s enmity, which meant that Potter _might_ have been good for something after all.

When he was offered his job again, he had agreed to return only if Minerva would take over as Headmistress. Resuming his post as Potions master was a step down on the food chain, but he cared even less about the farce of school hierarchy than he did about pointless Ministry awards. He longed for the quiet subterranean seclusion of Hogwarts, wanting nothing more than a touch point of familiarity after so much upheaval.

The first thing he’d done after setting up his room in the dungeon was visit the Shrieking Shack. He knew how morbid his colleagues would find his little visits, so he kept the field trips to himself. Although the floorboards were still stained with his blood, he found it tranquil rather than macabre. Where others might see defeat, he saw resurrection. His old life had ended there, but his new life had been birthed on its dirty floor. He had come back from the dead into a different world, one where he was beholden to neither Voldemort nor Albus, one where he was master of his own fate. The novelty of living, with all its choices and possibilities, had yet to sink in, and Severus was still getting used to the idea that his future was, in fact, _his_.

He went to the Shrieking Shack to be alone and think, to rest and regroup. To remember. It was peaceful there, unsullied by the din of school activity. A poor man’s getaway. Some people liked the coast—Severus liked ramshackle dumps where his life had been threatened on multiple occasions. It put things in perspective, and he valued the insight he found within its rickety walls.   

Granger would be the first person to breach his fortress.

Whether that was good or bad, Severus wasn’t sure. His fingers tightened around the book he’d brought for her, his hands seeking an outlet for his nervous energy. Admittedly, his mind had become rather fixated on the memory of her naked body, and he’d gotten a good deal of masturbatory mileage from their recent encounters, but he had other, much less carnal, plans for The Brain of Gryffindor. Sparring with her the previous Friday had reminded him how much he missed talking to someone—someone who could make him think. Granted their dinner conversation _had_ mostly been a cavalcade of innuendo, and later it was just prurient pillow talk; but he was hoping she could offer him something more in-depth. She’d responded well to his flower puzzle, so perhaps she was also in need of some intellectual stimulation.

Except for Narcissa and, so long ago, Lily, he didn’t talk to many women. Technically Minerva was a woman, but he didn’t want to discuss school all the live long day. He _did_ have other interests. Besides, Minerva was more of a mentor, forever his teacher. He needed someone who wanted to converse, not inform. 

But would Granger be the opposite? Would she forever be his student as he was Minerva’s? Or were there more surprises waiting to be discovered, a selection of Grangers he had yet to meet?

Hermione came through the door, shaking out her bushy tresses as the wind lost its hold on her hair. Severus sat perfectly still as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. When she spotted him amidst the shadows, a hesitant smile tugged at her lips.

“Did anyone see you sneaking in?” he asked quietly.

“Not that I noticed. Did you come through the Whomping Willow?”

Snape nodded and gestured toward the other chair. “Please have a seat.”

“I forgot how bloody windy this place is,” she muttered under her breath, flicking her wand at the other chair to clean it off. “How did Remus ever get any sleep when he stayed here?”

“I’m sure he just chased his tail until he wore himself out,” Severus shot back, not bothering to hide his disdain.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she took her seat. “Very mature, Professor.”

“I thought it might be tactless to suggest he was in here licking his balls until the break of dawn.”

Her glare could have melted marble. “Is that why you asked me here, to speak ill of the dead?”

“Not at all. I was merely responding to your query.”

“Why have you asked me here then?”

Snape tapped one finger on the arm of the chair, contemplating his answer in silence before deciding on a course of action. “I was curious if sex was all you had in your bag of tricks.”

She looked surprised, but then pulled her cloak tighter and drew her feet up sideways into the seat to keep warm, a sure sign that she was settling in to stay. “What do you mean?”

Training his gaze on her eyes—while maintaining his own idle countenance—Severus began to track her facial cues, cataloging her ticks and tells for future reference. People were always unaware of how much they revealed without saying a word. “Tell me what you do when you’re not masturbating in the Malfoy library. I know you work at the Ministry. Is that your life now?” 

She stared at him blankly for a second, and he could see she was baffled by his line of questioning.

“I work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, in the Creature Justice Division.”

“Yes, I am aware,” he drawled acerbically. “I’m asking if that’s all you do now. Do you spend every free moment forcing socks on house-elves, or do you have other interests? Not including semi-public self-pleasure.”

Her face tinged with red. “I do _not_ force socks on house-elves. And for your information, I have many interests outside work and my pussy.”

“For instance . . . ?”

“I still study Ancient Runes and Arithmancy in my spare time. I keep up with the latest Transfiguration and Charms Journals. And despite all those years of having you for a teacher, I enjoy the Potions periodicals as well.”

Excellent. Not only was she out to prove herself, she still had a love of learning, a hunger for knowledge. Now to see if she had developed any critical thinking skills since leaving his classroom. Could she come up with an original thought, or was she still regurgitating everything she read? “What did you think about that article on universal antidotes in February’s Potion-Maker’s Monthly?”

The fury drained from her face. “Ah. Umm . . . I thought it was theoretically interesting, but not very precise. Ground bezoar powder isn’t the answer to everything. They acted as if there weren’t multiple instances where bezoars are ineffective. And I question the wisdom of breaking down the bezoar to powder. That has to lessen its potency.”

“It does. The article was hogwash. I’ve seen better logic from a third-year.”

“What about that article on Tentacula venom in healing potions? That was the best thing I’ve seen in there in years.”

Snape could scarcely keep from smiling. “I enjoyed that as well. What did you find most promising?”

Her eyes brightened with cerebral excitement. “The experiments where it killed the lizard leper virus. What else can it kill? How many seemingly incurable diseases might be destroyed with it? It is incredibly dangerous, so obviously it would be risky, but I guess if death is your only other option, you’re willing to take that risk.”

The article was his, written under a pseudonym, but he’d keep that to himself for the time being.

“What was _your_ favorite part?” she countered.

“The section you mentioned. What do you think about using the Tentacula venom for something like dragon pox?”

She rested her chin in her hand and stared at him in thought. “Dragon pox already has a cure.”

“Not for the most aggressive strains.”

She nodded slowly. “You mean like Narcissa.”

“If there had been something more powerful and fast-acting, she wouldn’t have died.”

“Draco told me that her body was worn down by years of stress, that she was more susceptible and too weak to heal.”

“True, but that doesn’t change the fact that a more effective potion could have saved her life had it been available.”

“But if her body wasn’t healing properly, how would she have ever recovered from the Tentacula venom?”

If he had an answer for that, he wouldn't be stuck in his experimentation. “An exhaustive course of healing potions?” he suggested unhelpfully. Of course that wasn't the answer, but he wanted to keep her talking without revealing how much he knew.

“I think that would be tricky. The strength needed to kill the dragon pox would require an immediate counter-potion to stop the destruction to the rest of the body, but that might keep the venom from doing its job. If it could be targeted to only kill the virus, that would be great. Or if it somehow didn’t harm any healthy cells.”

He was working on the targeting idea in his private lab at school. It wasn’t going well.

“Did you read that article in Charm-Casters Quarterly about the little girl who had dragon pox as a baby and went blind?”

He shook his head. “I don’t frequent the Charms periodicals.”

“She developed this super-keen sense of the magic around her; she can recognize people by their spell work, and she’s begun to display impressive wandless capabilities. She’s not old enough for school yet, but I wonder how much more she’ll be able to do with a wand.”

“Mm,” he muttered absently. He was still thinking about his venom-targeting issue.

“What about you, sir? What do you do when you’re not teaching? Besides shag Mr. Malfoy and shuck oysters.”

He smirked. “I do my own experimental brewing.”

“Anything exciting?”

He nodded. “Yes, but I haven’t made any earth-shattering breakthroughs. Grading and teaching keep me busier than I’d like.”

“I’m surprised you’re still teaching at all. No offense or anything, but I never thought you enjoyed it all that much.”

“I don’t. The ignorance is insufferable.”

“Well, you don’t have to protect anyone now. Why don’t you just quit?”

“Hmm. I don’t know if that would be healthy for me from a mental perspective. If I quit, I’ll just go back to Spinner’s End and spend all my time brewing in the basement. I’d be even more anti-social than I am now. Perhaps Hogwarts is keeping me both sane and insane. And before you comment, yes, I realize how convoluted that sounded.”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, I get it. You don’t want to turn into the mad hermit of Cokeworth. It’s not strange to want other people around . . . even if they drive you batty.”

“Yes, perhaps.”

“What does Lucius say? Maybe he could come over and keep you from being alone.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I’ve never discussed it with him.”

“Oh,” she said, looking lost. “I thought you two were close.”

“We are. It’s just . . . complicated. We don’t really talk about things like that.”

“Maybe you should mention it.”

Severus shook his head. “Lucius is busy with his investments. He’s at Gringotts most days. He doesn’t have time to babysit his reclusive lover.”

“What about Draco? He likes you, and he’s smart. He might keep you company.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Draco’s an intelligent boy, but he’s far too busy with work and his . . . _busy social calendar_.”

She snorted. “I don’t know if you can call what Draco does work. He mostly runs around flirting new information out of every witch on the payroll.”

“I’ll just keep teaching,” he said with a sigh. “It’s not all bad. Occasionally there’s actually someone bright enough to distract me from the drudgery.”

Hermione’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “You miss me, don’t you?”

Severus kept his expression passive despite his amusement. “My classroom seems lifeless without your hand forever waving about in the air. How I survive the day without you reciting the textbook back to me like a pedantic parrot is a mystery I’ve somehow learned to live with.”

Her grin spread wide. “I haven’t recited anything in years, nor have I raised my hand.”

“Just your skirt?”

She shook her head but couldn’t keep from laughing. “I haven’t raised my skirt once. I leave that to the professionals.”

“A wise decision. That reminds me, I brought you something.” He slipped the book from its hiding place and held it up for her to see. “I know this is probably foreplay for you, but please try to control yourself.”

With a chagrined smile, she leaned forward and accepted the gift then settled back and opened the blank cover, searching for a title page. Her face went red when she found it, but she didn’t hesitate to begin a thorough investigation of its juicier chapters.

“I want you to look through that during the coming week. I’m sure Lucius would be more than willing to reenact anything you take a liking to the next time we get together.”

She stopped at a picture of a nude witch bound spread eagle to a bed. “How long can I keep this?”

Severus chuckled at her blatant arousal. “As long as you like. I know where you live if I want it back.”

When she glanced up, her brow was lopsided with confusion. “You know where I live?”

“Of course I do. Draco told me years ago.”

Nodding, she went back to her skimming. “So you just want me to pick out my favorite parts?”

“I want you to read the whole book and decide if you’d like to try anything. We can discuss it the next time I see you.”

“The next time you see me? You don’t want to do anything now?”

He smirked but managed not to laugh. “Your libido must be more resilient than mine, Miss Granger. This drafty old shack does little to get my blood pumping, and I have absolutely no desire to lose any of my extremities to the cold.”

“You really just asked me here to talk?”

Severus studied her for a moment before answering. “If I had wanted sex, I would have said so in my letter. I see no reason to beat around the bush . . . so to speak.”

Too enthralled by the book to look up, she nodded agreeably. “I like a man who’s honest about what he wants.”

“Then we should get along just fine. Perhaps we can continue our talk next weekend.”

Hermione’s eyes shot to him as he rose from the chair, her forehead knitting into a concerned line. “Are you leaving?”

“I’m cold, and I have things I need to finish in my classroom. I’m sure you’re eager to get that book home and . . . _study_. I’ll leave you to your own devices.”

Severus inclined his head politely and headed for the passageway.

“Thank you for the book, Professor,” she called after him. “And it was nice talking to you.”

He stopped and looked back. “Yes. I look forward to next time. Good afternoon, Miss Granger.”

He wanted to go back to his room and think—about brewing and venom, about Malfoys and teaching, about frizzy-haired bookworms and shifting perceptions. His head was full, and he needed to sort out his thoughts.

Granger had given him a lot to think about. 

A worthy witch indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayre—Song-like vocal or instrumental compositions.  
> "Generally, ayres are graceful, elegant, polished, often strophic songs (i.e., songs having the same music for each stanza), typically dealing with amorous subjects. But many are lively and animated, full of rhythmic subtleties, while others are deeply emotional works that gain much of their effect from bold, expressive harmonies and striking melodic lines."--Britannica
> 
> "She's Like the Wind" by Patrick Swayze. 1986. Written by Patrick Swayze and Stacy Widelitz in 1984. Wendy Fraser is the female vocalist for the track.  
> "It was originally intended for the soundtrack of Grandview, U.S.A. and was meant to be about Jamie Lee Curtis' character in the film. However, the song was not used in that film. During production of Dirty Dancing in 1987, Swayze played the demo for producer Linda Gottlieb and director Emile Ardolino. They loved it and passed it on to Jimmy Ienner and Bob Feiden, the soundtrack's executive producers. It was recorded for the soundtrack in November 1986, with Michael Lloyd producing. The song, like the film in which it was featured, was a success, reaching number three on the Billboard Hot 100 and number one on Adult Contemporary, and was a hit around the world. It is still in circulation on radio. The soundtrack album was number one for 19 weeks."--Wikipedia  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=0Gbz-Lau5tc>
> 
> Temporariam Mortem=Temporary Death


	19. Etude

19—Etude

“Oh I wonder wonder who, whooooo, who wrote the book of love.”—The Monotones

(Hermione)

Hermione perched herself on the edge of the kitchen chair, her body wired with new-book agitation. This was one of her greatest pleasures: setting off on a voyage of knowledge and swimming through an ocean of ideas. Muffy was already creaming in anticipation, soaking her knickers with scholarly enthusiasm.

Touching her ledger and quill to ensure they were standing by and ready for action, Hermione made a mental note to never EVER mention to anyone that her swottiness had reached such epidemic proportions. Surely normal people didn’t take notes while reading a sex book. And they most definitely didn’t wet themselves imagining the pages of outlines and citations that might ensue.

She had issues.

But most people had more real world experience than she did. When other girls her age had been out partying and dating, Hermione had been studying. And when everyone else was settling down and getting married, Hermione was hard at work, her nose to the grindstone. It wasn’t that she was uninterested, it was just that she didn't have the time. She hadn’t been celibate by any stretch of the imagination, but all the men she’d been with in the past had been very . . . vanilla. And when a girl wanted some damn devil’s food, vanilla had all the appeal of a soggy tissue crusted with green bogeys—you didn’t really want to touch it, but you made do.

To fill in the gaps, she’d retreated into a sexual universe of her own creation, a world where there were no rules, no prohibition. She could be as sweet or as sick as she wanted to be, virginal as well as kinky. No one made her feel guilty or ashamed; the men in her fantasies didn’t judge. Unfortunately, imagination and experience were two different things. Now she had three wizards who were so far from vanilla that she felt frightfully unprepared. It was as if life had thrown her a vulgar pop quiz, and while she knew enough to stumble through it with some style, she secretly wanted to blow them all away with her sexpertise and get the extra credit at the end.

Thank Merlin for books—the eradicators of all ignorance. She’d get a handle on the subject and really wow them the next time they met. What a relief.

Running her hand lovingly over the worn cover, Hermione noticed that there had once been lettering there, but the gilded title had worn away, leaving behind minuscule flakes of gold that might have been mistaken for soil in the wrong lighting. That was odd. The book wasn’t old; she’d checked the year of publication when he gave it to her. Either it was used, which would explain the missing dust jacket, or Snape, wanting to keep the contents a mystery to any onlooker, had purposefully obscured the title.

Hermione grinned and checked the spine. Nothing there either. That sneaky bastard. He probably had a whole library full of erotic manuals sitting out in plain view—and no one had any clue. That was rather brilliant. If she’d done the same thing, she might have saved herself several embarrassing book reveals over the years.

She could only imagine what had prompted Snape to go to such lengths; it couldn’t have been worse than George knocking over one of her many book boxes during her last move and finding her stash of erotica. She thought he was never going to stop laughing, and she didn’t know if she should find that insulting or not. Did everyone honestly think she was a sexless prude? It had taken some creative threats involving George’s bits and a well placed Reducto to ensure his silence, but she could see the beauty of a more Slytherin approach. Severus probably would have just Obliviated him and been done with it.

Snickering to herself, Hermione flipped open the cover and took a cleansing breath; the scent of the printed word shifted her brain into a state of rapturous arousal, drugging her with the promise of knowledge most naughty. With a sleepy smile of pleasure, she stroked each page as she turned to the first section. Part One: Pleasure and Passion.

That would be the subject of her inaugural note-taking. A shiver of exhilaration trickled down her spine—this was just like being back in school. Gods she missed homework!

Telling herself not to be so weird, she found the first chapter and copied down its title as well. Kissing.

She read quickly, scanning the paragraphs and absorbing the words like a human computer. Their descriptions of various kisses were both artistic and exciting. And the visuals were provocative to say the least. Mouths pressed together, tongues meeting with a mixture of ardor and tentative desire. The sharp nip of teeth grazing a lover’s lip. Slick shine glossing the path of oral exploration. Bloody hell, she was already breathing hard, and she hadn’t even gotten to anything explicit yet.

Turning the book sideways, the studied a photograph and its corresponding caption. Upside down snogging. Interesting. She made an extra note to try that when the moment arose. _Both parties receive the full benefit of the luscious lower lip_. Hmmm. Draco might like that.

They might _all_ like it, but she wouldn’t know since she’d only kissed Draco so far. She wasn’t so sure Mr. Malfoy or Snape even had snogging in their sights. Maybe they only kissed each other. Maybe Mr. Malfoy thought it was wrong to kiss anyone but his wife. Maybe Snape didn’t kiss casual lovers. With her limited exposure to such matters, she didn’t know what to expect, and she’d feel absolutely ridiculous asking them to clarify. _Pardon me, my good sirs, but could you give me a list of which body parts I might expect to find in my mouth in the near future? A yes on the cocks, but a no on the tongues?_

Yeah, that wasn’t happening. There was already enough awkwardness as it was. She would like to snog them all if the opportunity presented itself, but she wouldn’t push it. Draco did an excellent job meeting her kissing needs, and expecting them all to rise to that same level of affection seemed greedy. Who was she to demand fabulous sex _and_ snogging from three different men? That sounded totally insane. She should be thankful any of them wanted to kiss her at all, because there had been many notable years where she’d experienced a complete snogging drought.

Not wanting to wander down that lonely memory lane, Hermione quickly turned to the next chapter to distract herself.

Fondling. Oo! A distracting topic indeed. She tore through the overview, her imagination hitting warp speed as she pictured herself as the subject of each description. The thought of their hands roaming her body caused a prickly patch of gooseflesh to needle her neck. Her nipples tightened behind her bra, and she absently brushed one as she began the next subsection, which was fortuitously captioned: Breasts.

Her eyes widened as she watched the ebony witch in the picture run a feather over her body, teasing her nipples until they stood out like chocolate nibs. Damn. Maybe she should start stashing a quill in her nightstand. For some reason the thought of teasing herself with writing utensils caused an unexpected deluge down below, plastering her knickers to her labia.

Although always exciting, reading wasn't usually such a visceral experience. Thank Merlin the chair seats were vinyl.

Poring through the selection, she couldn’t help reaching under her shirt to test out their suggestions. The info was excellent. They weren’t sparing any detail. _Draco would really get off on this_. The pictures alone were spellbinding. 

The next chapter was on hand jobs. Male and female. There was some brilliant advice and lots of techniques she intended to test drive when given the chance. She couldn’t help giggling when she imagined each of them standing in as her practice penis. Draco would probably lose his mind and jump her before she could finish. Mr. Malfoy would play it cool, stretching out like a king and luxuriating in her vast manual expertise. Snape would . . . . Bloody hell, Snape would give her damn good upper body workout. The book didn’t mention how to avoid tendinitis or forearm fatigue. Maybe they’d never had to wrestle a python in bed before; there was no snake wrangling subsection. And if she was with all three of them, she’d be wanking till the break of dawn. Perhaps she should invest in a wrist brace.

Or an arm sling.

She made a note of that as well.

Oral sex was the next chapter, and Hermione couldn’t devour the passages fast enough. If anyone didn’t love fellatio before reading that chapter, they would by the time they were done. And Merlin’s balls, she’d never seen pussy described so invitingly before. Was this how Snape saw her? Was her sex _a musky morsel of tasty titillation_? How many times had he read this book? She closed her eyes for a moment to picture him perusing the passages, his trousers tight around his burgeoning erection, his hand gripping the bulge as he adjusted himself through his clothes.

 _Dammit, Hermione. Stop that! You’re supposed to be reading. If you want to mentally spy on Snape, at least wait until you’ve got the_ _shower_ _head_ _for backup. You know how stiff your fingers got the last time._

Snorting, she agreed to postpone the daydreaming until she was properly armed with her aquatic arsenal. Besides, she couldn’t take notes and masturbate at the same time—the quill would get too slippery.

Scratching out a flurry of abbreviated directions, she wrote down a list of tricks to try the next time she had one of them stuffed in her mouth.

Turning the page, she found herself staring at a huge layout of pubic hair trimmed into different shapes and decorated with glittery gems, illustrating the supplementary section on hair removal. She didn't know how she felt about that now. For a few years she’d bowed to convention and kept her lips bare, leaving a neat triangle on her mound. It was a hassle to keep up, and the initial sensitivity had faded over time, so she’d let it grow back out to its natural state. Now she was rather attached to her bush—no pun intended. She massaged a few drops of oil into it every night so it was soft to the touch. She liked the animal element it represented. It was her wild side, the part that wasn’t all prim and proper. Her kitty was a tigress even if her daily persona was more domesticated house cat.

None of them had indicated they didn’t like her pubic hair, and they all still had theirs. Although . . . Lucius and Draco’s hair was so light she could barely see it. But Snape had dark hair like her, and he didn’t seem to do anything about his. She rather enjoyed petting his furry balls, so maybe they all felt the same way about her pussy.

 _If they don't like it, they can just go find another witch._ She wasn’t about to give up her fluffy Muffy for a bunch of demanding perverts . . . sex gods . . .  no, perverts. Perverted sex gods? Well, whatever they were they weren’t scalping her mound.

When she turned to the next chapter, she froze for a second and then burst into an embarrassed grin. _All Aboard for Anal_ , might have been the most apropos subtitle ever. And why the hell was she blushing? Except for Crookshanks, no one knew about her fondness for backdoor fun, and it wasn’t as if he was going to spill the beans. She’d never actually had anal sex with another person, but she’d had her fingers up there plenty of times. And the book heartily encouraged easing the way with fingers and toys.

So far none of them had tried to go for the gold round back, and she was beginning to wonder—okay, worry—that they weren’t into it. That seemed highly unlikely given their rich sexual history. At least one of them must be an arse man. But which one? And how the hell would she suss him out? _I guess I’ll have to find a way to hint at it next time. Is it too forward to impale your bum on a man’s finger?_ Hopefully, if the opportunity arose, her brain would be functional enough to implement her piking plan.

The book was delightfully thorough, giving an overview of anal plugs, anal beads, and anal massage. _Yes, yes and yes_. She paused for several minutes when she got to the part on analingus. No one had ever licked her arse, and she’d never volunteered her tongue for such pursuits. It sounded fun to receive—and the accompanying picture was delicious—but she didn’t know if she could ever stick her tongue up anyone’s bum. Gryffindor courage only went so far. The book said it was safe as long as both partners were clean and healthy. It even listed an incantation for a waterless enema. Hermione copied it down then pointed her wand at herself and tried it out. 

 _Holy Hufflepuffs!_ Her knuckles went white as she clutched the edge of the table in a shuddery convulsion of shock. _Well . . . now I know what a peppermint feather colonoscopy feels like. Bloody fucking hell_. She blinked several times and exhaled shakily. _Might have to have another go of that later._

Reaching down, she pried her panties from the line of her labia and then made a note to try the boob quill thing with the enema charm at the same time . . . possibly while sitting on the shower head and imagining them all wanking in her face.

 _If you’re gonna do something, do it right._ She put a star next to the entry so she wouldn’t forget.

The next subsection was about real enemas. Shit. Literally. She’d read some stories about enemas before, and the idea of it did turn her on; but being turned on by a story wasn’t the same as doing it in real life. And who would she ask to perform the honors? Lucius seemed too pristine to be an enema enthusiast. Draco would be the easiest to talk to, and therefore the least embarrassing, but Snape would be the one most likely to do it the way she wanted. She knew that was a recipe for disaster though. How would she even broach the subject? _Pardon me, but if you're done with your brewing, Professor Snape, could you please stick a hose up my arse and fill me with water?_

No way. She’d die of humiliation before she could even get the words started. Maybe if there was some other way to tell him . . . like NOT telling him. Maybe she could anonymously owl him an enema bulb or something. Even that sounded too risky. Who else would be sending him something like that? He wasn't an idiot; he'd know she was the one behind it.

 _Behind_ it.

She snorted but immediately slapped her hand over her mouth. _Stop being juvenile. This is serious business. You want to get an O at the next Slytherin Sex Symposium, don’t you?_

Did she ever _._

Crooks didn't seem to find that nearly as funny as she did. She waved off his imploring stare, and he went back to his half-nap.

Part II of the book was dedicated to submission and domination. Hermione didn’t think it was possible for her knickers to get any wetter, but just seeing those words somehow did it. 

Spanking. Punishments. Restraints. She was drooling. Riding crops, canes, paddles. Blindfolds, cuffs, gags. Even the girl in the black studded collar made her heart go pitter pat. Should she be concerned? Hermione didn’t think she really wanted to be anybody’s slave, but she did want one of them—or all of them—to take over her body and set her free. She stopped short, realizing how paradoxical that sounded, but immediately knew why she’d thought it.

She lived in a fucked up world where women were told to be sexy and desirable, while at the same time they were told shagging was something to be ashamed of. Puritan or whore, a woman’s sexual identity was defined by strangers, relegating her to either breeding stock or a piece of meat. Or invisible. They were all equally offensive, and none of them could do justice to the complexity of her own preferences. Sex meant a lot of things to her, and it wasn’t all pure love and white doves. She had needs that went against everything she stood for, needs that scared her, needs that she didn’t even understand. But denying they existed would be like cutting off an appendage—they were a part of her, and she preferred to embrace all her aspects rather than hobble about on rickety legs of self-denial.

While she thought it was strange that any sex was being labelled immoral as long as all parties consented, she couldn’t escape the standards that society set. That sexist tripe was ingrained in her brain no matter how much she hated it. Her rebellious nature wasn’t as well formed as her studious side, and it was hard to override years of good girl conditioning. Being sexy by herself wasn’t hard, but being that open with others was a bit scary. She just needed a nudge to get her rolling, someone to assure her that her predilections were acceptable. If someone else was in charge, she was off the hook, free to be a bad girl. But she didn’t want to be toyed with for some sick wizard’s amusement. She wanted someone to take care of her so she could let go safely.

Lucius and Severus were both dominant in ways that turned her on, but so far Draco was the only one who treated her with the kind of care she craved. But Draco was the least dominant of the three. He wanted to be taken care of as much as she did. Could Mr. Malfoy or Snape ever be the kind of man she really wanted? Snape didn’t seem like the nurturing type, but Mr. Malfoy had spent all those years devotedly adoring his wife. Maybe he could take on the demanding role of courteous—but debauched—disciplinarian.

All her experiences with him so far had been on the sensual side. He liked stroking. Hair, skin, sex—he stroked it all. And he did like it dirty. Not as dirty as Snape, but pretty kinky.

And what was up with that “dinner?” She never knew what that man was going to say next. He seemed to be torn between a love for life and mourning his wife. She could understand that. It had only been three years. _He must miss being with a woman an awful lot to go from Narcissa to me._ If Narcissa was a swan, Hermione was a molting mallard. She felt woefully inadequate when in his presence. But if he needed her company to find some peace and acceptance about his loss, then she wanted to help. She just wished she knew what it was Lucius really needed.

Draco wanted care. Snape seemed to want companionship—or just conversation. But then again he was the one who'd given her the book. He must want more than words. She set down her quill so she could rub her head and think.

At first she’d thought the affair with Mr. Malfoy and Snape was just a fluke, a bit of fun. Draco was the one who seemed to be attached to her on some deeper level, but every time she asked him what was really going on between them, he said something incredibly touching without giving her a clear answer. If she read between the lines, then she had to assume he was seriously interested in her, but if she took his enigmatic replies at face value, he probably just considered her a very good friend. Or maybe that was how he treated all the women he slept with. For all she knew, he was still dating other witches. She hadn’t seen him with anyone since that first night in the library, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t just hiding his dalliances to keep from hurting her feelings . . . or to keep her dancing between friend and lover.

She wouldn’t mind dating Draco; he was sweet and charming, and she cared about him a great deal. But then she thought about how Mr. Malfoy licked and fucked her, and she started having delusional fantasies about dating him. That was extremely unlikely. He was considerably older than her and probably just thought she was a entertaining shag.

Snape was even more confusing. He was the only one who hadn’t tried to sleep with her that week. He had talked to her—like another adult. That conversation had been satisfying on so many levels. Severus was easily the smartest person she knew, and that turned her on like nothing else. At one point the urge to knock him to the ground and hump his cranium had been so overpowering she’d had to hold onto the chair to keep from tackling him. _Mmmmm, brain bang._ She had actually been physically aroused by their discussion, which she hadn’t realized until he rose to leave. Her pussy had reached out for him like a child begging to stay up and play a bit longer; she was afraid it was going to detach itself from her body and run after him, clutching at his robes and dragging him back for more.

And that was just because of _what_ he’d said. When she thought about _how_ he’d said it, her insides began to liquify. That voice left her wetter than a log flume, and she did _not_ want to give that up.

She thought the phrase “stealing a woman’s heart” should have some kind intellectual equivalent to apply to men like Snape. He’d stolen her brain. Her mind? If she debated it much longer, the answer would be her sanity.

But she knew Snape would never hug and kiss her the way Draco did, so ultimately, she was right back where she’d started. Growling loudly, she knocked her knuckles against her forehead to trip up her racing thoughts. _Stop, Hermione! You're getting way too ahead of yourself. You’re debating who’s more suited to you, and you're not even sure if Draco—the one you know best—is even interested in taking this further. There is no answer right now. All this obsessing isn’t getting you anywhere. Let it go._

That damn logical voice in her head was right. No matter how much she wanted an easy happily-ever-after answer, she wasn’t going to get it. Everything would just have to continue on its confusing course until one of them started making sense. Nodding resolutely, she forced her mind to focus on something rational—like fake sex homework.

Books were usually the correct answer to all of life’s problems.

Part III was titled Sadism and Masochism. There was a mixture of things throughout the pages that both interested her and scared the bejeezus out of her. Electricity. _No_. Sharp objects. _No_. Bull whips. _No_. She didn’t want to bleed. Even the parts that turned her on worried her a bit. She’d have to run some tests before she made any formal requests.

After S&M was a chapter on threesomes, which had her giggling at the end of each paragraph. _Been there. Plus one._

The rest of the book seemed to be an abbreviated assortment of kinks, small sections to inspire the bored and push the envelope for the more adventurous.

Scat. _No_.

Urine. _Probably not_. It didn’t turn her on, but she wouldn’t freak out if wee was involved.

Plushies. What the hell was this? It didn’t get her wet, but she was fascinated by the idea that people enjoyed it. _Whatever floats your boat_.

FemDom. _Hmmm_. That one made her slow down and take stock. She wouldn’t mind having a man at her mercy. No way would Snape or Lucius ever go for that, but Draco might. She learned about cock cages and pegging. And queening thrones. Now that she _would_ like to try. Did guys really enjoying being smothered with pussy? Didn’t they fancy breathing the way she did? She’d ask Draco the next time he came over.

Adult babies. Weird. She could understand the submission aspect, but she didn’t know how she could be turned on by bibs and blankies. Okay, maybe pacifiers and bottles weren’t too much; oral fixation was something she could identify with. But what was sexy about babies? That was just creepy. Although . . . some of the pictures _were_ incredibly sweet—very huggy and cuddly. Maybe these people just got off on being taken care of. Maybe they wanted to let go like she did.

Or maybe they just got off on humiliation. She could see the draw there too. Submission in the extreme. Maybe these people were more like her than she’d first realized. Unwilling to let herself go down that road just yet, she quickly moved on to the next section.

Gender bending. Despite the world’s misogyny problems, she’d never really wanted to be a boy. But there were potions listed that would temporarily turn a person into their opposite sex self. Her mind wandered, postulating a reality where she’d been born male. What would she have been like as a boy? Probably just the same except nobody would have called her bossy.

That was followed by a section on cross-dressing, which didn’t really do anything for her, but then she wondered what the three of them would look like in drag and couldn’t stop laughing. Snape and Lucius would be ridiculous. But Draco . . . Draco had his mother’s delicate features. He’d make an excellent girl. Prettier than herself.

Crookshanks looked up from his paw-licking when her snorting got out of control; his huffy sigh indicated he didn’t appreciate the interruption.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Go back to your bath. I’ll be okay.”

Crooks must have decided her sanity was in question, because he left the kitchen, watching her warily until he was in the safety of the sitting room.

Hermione set down her quill and wiped her eyes. Maybe she _was_ losing it. She’d been sitting there for hours and was past due for her study break _._ It was best to relax and let the new information she’d acquired sink in. Speaking of sinking in, it was time to take a bath. Which meant it was time for her date with Señor Shower Massage. 

Snape’s book had been inspirational to say the least. She’d have to find a way to thank him for the reading material.

Before hopping in the tub, she did a few pushups on the bathroom floor—proper thanks might require some upper body endurance.

Her arms were wobbly from disuse, but she flexed her non-existent muscles in the mirror to see how buff she’d gotten in thirty seconds. Not bad _._ Just a billion more to go. _  
_

_Python wrangling here I come_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Etude--a short musical composition, typically for one instrument, designed as an exercise to improve the technique or demonstrate the skill of the player.
> 
> The Book of Love by The Monotones. Released in 1958. Written by Warren Davis, George Malone, and Charles Patrick (all members of the group). "Lead singer Charles Patrick heard a Pepsodent toothpaste commercial with the line "wonder where the yellow went". From there he got the idea for the line, "I wonder, wonder, wonder who, who wrote the book of love", working it up into a song with Davis and Malone. The "boom" part of the song was a result of a kid kicking a ball against the garage while they were rehearsing. It sounded good, so they added it to the song.  
> In September 1957, the Monotones recorded "The Book of Love", which was released on the Mascot label in December that year. The small record company could not cope with its popularity, and it was reissued on Chess Records' subsidiary Argo label in February 1958. It attained a Billboard ranking of No. 5 for pop songs and No. 3 for R&B in 1958. It also reached No. 5 in Australia. In the UK, the hit version was a cover by The Mudlarks."--Wikipedia  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=OS1LFGGGazc>


	20. Natural

20—Natural

“You take my self, you take my self-control.”—Laura Branigan

(Draco)

Draco bounded up the walk to Hermione’s flat and knocked on the door in a rapid fire burst of anxious energy. It felt as if eons had passed since he’d seen her last, and he was going absolutely mental. How was he supposed to make it the whole weekend without at least one kiss?

He was amazed how quickly he’d become addicted to her—her touch, her scent, her smile. His father was right, he was a needy little berk. The problem was that, even though he saw himself becoming more and more attached, he couldn’t resist. His mind constantly wandered to his bushy-haired belle. Even when he slept, her face filled his dreams.

This was not normal for him. Usually flirting was nothing more than entertainment. He’d become adept at stringing witches along until they no longer served his needs; then he cut them loose and went in search of the next prize. Catch and release. Although he wanted a love that lasted, he was always disappointed by the girls he took home. Sure, they were sexy and fun, but none of them could hold his interest. And deep down he knew why.

They weren’t Granger.

For the first time in his life, his dreams were coming true, but he was baffled by the surreal quality his waking moments had taken on in the past couple of weeks. Being with her had the odd effect of elongating each second while simultaneously skipping over whole hours as if they were no more than minutes. He could spend an entire day staring into her eyes, but that day would be over before he could blink. Time was so unfair. And the weekends were even more unfair. How was he supposed to just forget her until Monday? The very notion was inconceivable.

The door swung open and Hermione, dressed in a ratty old shirt and joggers, appeared before him like a frizzy mirage. His ink-blotted angel. Why did she have quills stuck in her messy ponytail? Did she bring home work? Usually she stayed late to finish everything so she wouldn’t worry about it.

“Draco!” she said with a huge smile.

Well that was a good sign. “Hey, Granger. Have I come at a bad time?” He gestured at her hair.

She reached up as if she didn’t know what he meant and seemed surprised to find the quills. Pulling one out, she studied it critically. “So that’s where they all went. No, it’s not a bad time. I’m just reading.”

Draco followed her in and went over to the couch, where a book was sitting open on the coffee table, surrounded by sheaves of parchment that had been completely obliterated by Hermione’s indecipherable shorthand. There was a pile of balled up paper stacked like snowballs to one side, and several were strewn over the floor as if Crookshanks had been using them for batting practice. 

Something must have really snagged her brain, because only an all-consuming obsession could blind Hermione to such disorder. Everything was always neat and tidy unless she had a particularly troublesome case to deal with—then he’d find her buried under mounds of paperwork, scribbling out notes as if her life depended on it. But he knew that couldn’t be the situation this time; he’d been attentively following her ongoing sagas at work, and he knew she’d wrapped up her latest crisis. As she peered into the reflective surface of a mirrored picture frame on the wall, working the ink spots off her nose with her thumb, Draco sank into his usual seat and picked up her book to see what had her so engrossed.

 _Bloody hell_.

“What’s this, Granger?” he asked with a leer. “I thought you said you were reading.”

“I was. Hey! Put that back. You’re going to lose my place.”

“Your place.” Draco repeated, laughing as he flipped through the chapters. “I wouldn’t want you to lose your place. Merlin’s beard, Hermione. This is really kinky. Are you into all this?”

Hermione slid into the seat next to him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip and her brow contracting as if she were perplexed by the most confounding of mysteries. “I was just thinking.”

“Thinking? Like with your hand down your knickers?”

She smirked. “No. Draco . . . may I ask you a personal question?”

“I suppose.”

“Have you ever done . . . _this_ before?” She reached over and turned a few pages back.

Malfoy tried to keep a straight face but didn't quite succeed. She seemed quite serious, as if this were an important subject she intended to get a firm handle on. “No, I’ve never been a boot licker.”

“No, the other page.”

Snickering, he checked the opposite illustration. “Ah. Yes. I’ve had several witches sit on my face.”

“How did you breathe?”

Draco burst into guffaws, unprepared for her earnest interrogation. “You do your best. I just tip back my head until my nose is free. But being smothered by pussy isn't as bad as it sounds. It's a bit of a rush.”

She inclined her head in studious understanding. “Oh. Have you ever done any of this other stuff?”

“You mean have I ever been some witch’s subbie?”

She nodded.

“No. Most of the witches I’ve been with like me to be in charge. Why . . . did you want to try it?” _Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes!_

“Have you ever thought about doing it before?”

He took a deep breath. No one had ever asked about his fantasies as much as she had, which was bizarrely terrifying as well as exciting. He wanted her to know, he just wished he didn’t have to be the one to tell her. It wasn’t easy to blurt one’s most guarded secrets. “I’ve thought about lots of things.”

“Like what?”

He quickly debated how much to confess. She seemed open to the idea, but maybe she was just curious. “I’ve thought about being tied up. I’ve thought about a witch ordering me around. I’ve thought about a witch . . . beating my bum.”

She smiled. “Like spanking? Or with something like a paddle?”

At least she wasn’t weirded out. “Both.”

“Do you want to try it out and see what it’s like? With me I mean.”

Was this conversation seriously happening? “You want to top me?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never done it before. I kind of just want to see what it’s like. Maybe I’ll hate it . . . or maybe I’ll feel completely ridiculous. But I would like to have a wizard under my control for a bit.”

His cock wanted her to be in control for a bit too. Or forever. “What do you want to try?”

“What do _you_ want to try? What turns you on the most?”

He couldn’t tell her. That was too much revelation for one day. There was kinky and then there was personal, and while the former was mildly embarrassing to say out loud, the latter tied his tongue into a neat bow of self-preservation. But he felt safe listing some of his more conventional ideas. “Besides the restraint, I’ve thought about begging and orgasm denial. Maybe some light whipping.”

“I don’t have a whip. What about humiliation? Are you okay with crawling and mild sexual shaming? What about me sitting on your face?”

If she wanted to sit on his face permanently, he was fine with that. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“What do you want your safe word to be?”

“I'll stick with Firebolt.”

She smiled. “Okay. Let me go get some things ready. I think I’m going to have to change my clothes to get in character.”

“If this gets too weird for you, I’ll understand.”

Hermione leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You too. If you don’t like it, just tell me.”

Draco pulled her back in and kissed her lips properly. “I missed you.”

Her smile returned, brighter than the sun. “I missed you too. Is that why you came over?”

He shrugged and nodded.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Draco grinned. _Good_.

“Be right back,” she said and patted his leg before dashing away.

Malfoy stayed put, listening to her moving things around in her room, opening drawers, running to the loo. Well this was an unexpected turn of events. He’d just been hoping for some snogging and a hug. But—somehow—things had gone wonderfully off course. Pinching the side of his leg, he made sure he wasn’t dreaming. Draco wasn’t sure if that really worked or not, but he definitely felt it. Not a dream—just the most perfect afternoon in the history of the world.

He recalled the first time he’d seen her stomping through the halls of the Ministry, her arms laden with an enormous stack of files as she lectured the man beside her with the full force of her fury, apparently incensed that the man had the gall to suggest barring werewolf orphans from the children’s home. Draco had watched the reaming from a distance, a small smile on his face. She was just as feisty as she’d been at school, and that demanding tone in her voice took him back to the days of prefect meetings and inter-house competition, before his life had gone so horribly wrong. It might have just been nostalgia, but he suspected there was some subconscious reason he’d approached her in the canteen that day. Maybe he wanted her to yell at him too. Maybe he wanted to make amends. Maybe he just wanted some of her fury to shine on him for a moment so he could feel something again.

But he’d gotten so much more than than he’d bargained for. Underneath all that mad hair and fierce fire was a witch who honestly cared about everyone. Even him. It was a relief to know there were people like her in the world, people who weren’t just out for themselves, people who could forgive and move on. It gave him some hope of redemption—something to aspire to.

And he knew that was part of his addiction. Hermione made him work harder, she made him push himself. Back at Hogwarts that had resulted in a war for the highest marks, but now it was something less tangible. He wanted to show her he was the kind of man who could make her happy, the kind of man she could be proud of.

But he didn’t really know how achieve that goal. Of course he had some ideas, but Hermione wasn’t like other witches, so the usual Draco magic would not be sufficient. He might actually have to—Draco grimaced—be _honest_ with her. The thought of it made his stomach turn.

It wasn’t that he ever purposely lied to her . . . he just omitted certain things to protect himself—like any good Slytherin would. There was an art to verbal exclusion; for instance, he could go on for hours about work or hobbies or his latest date. Those were safe topics. And all that talking made him sound much more open than he really was.

He became far more selective about heavier subjects; that didn’t mean lying, it just meant choosing his words carefully. Talking about his mother was still a sore spot, and even though he complained about his father, he never discussed their actual issues. He avoided pretty much all conversation about the war and his time as a Death Eater; just thinking about it brought on a bout of nausea. And he most definitely watched his tongue when revealing his feelings concerning a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor.

He tried to tell her the truth—he really did. But he always stopped short, leaving the most crucial pieces of information unsaid.

And he knew why.

Sheer terror.

If she didn’t return his sentiments, he didn’t know how he could go on. She had become his guiding light, and he needed her illumination to find his way out of the shadows of his past.

There was just too much risk. Once he figured out how she really felt about him, he’d open up to her. But her obvious desire for Snape and his father made him hesitate. Part of him understood her need to let loose—she’d been holding in a whole lot of sexual tension over the years . . . more than he could have ever imagined. And Draco hadn’t been living a life of monogamy, so he couldn’t claim any kind of moral high ground. Sometimes you just had to get the shagging out of your system.

But he'd be ready to swoop in and catch her when she finally wore herself out.

Draco took a deep breath and adjusted his cock before it could get any harder. His body was oscillating back and forth between heart-pounding panic and rock-hard excitement. Part of him was worried everything would go balls up and his fantasies would be shattered. He was gambling on her care and compassion, praying that his submissive tendencies wouldn’t repel her and destroy their budding romance.

And how could he have said no? Pretending that she hadn’t stumbled over one of his biggest turn-ons would have been impossible. And foolish. It wasn’t as if he had a waiting list of witches just dying to dominate him at a moment’s notice.

As if responding to his wavering resolve, Hermione suddenly reappeared . . . and Draco’s jaw fell into his lap. Sweet Circe! Gone were the joggers and T-shirt. In their place was a black lace bra and matching knickers. Black heels took the look from alluring to commanding. She’d pulled up her hair into a messy twist, but thin wisps framed her face and neck, making it look as if she’d already been shagged into disarray. Bloody hell, she was sexy.

She must have noticed his reaction, because her posture went from unsure to confident in less than five seconds. “Ready?”

He nodded blankly.

Hermione licked her lips and lowered her chin—her game face. “Crawl to me.”

 _Excellent start._ Draco grinned and slithered off the couch, settling on his hands and knees. Skirting the coffee table, he crawled to her feet and nudged her hand with his head.

Hermione looked down at him and smiled. “Good boy.”

Her nails raked through his hair, lightly scraping his scalp, and Draco’s scrotum tightened with rapture. He’d had no idea that head scratching and a “good boy” were all that was required to send his bollocks into orbit.

“Take off your shoes and socks. I don’t want them getting in the way later.”

 _Me neither,_ he agreed as he quickly kicked off his shoes. _Aren’t my trousers in the way_ _as well_ _?_ Draco had to sit back to pull off his socks, and when he glanced up, she was watching him, a curious gleam in her eyes. Before he could identify the meaning of that gleam, she gestured toward his torso.

“Your shirt too.”

 _Hm_ _m_ _,_ _yes, ma’am._ The nakeder the better. He pulled off his white polo shirt and tossed it aside. _We’re getting closer, Granger. Trousers next?_

A pleased look of triumph lit her face as she eyed his chest. “Very nice. Now stand up and put your hands on your head. I need to see what I’m working with.”

Grinning cheekily, he rose and interlocked his fingers atop his head, his muscles trembling with anticipation. When she reached toward him, he held his breath and watched as her hand met with his chest in slow motion. 

Her smile widened, and she traced the divot between his pecs with one finger. “You keep those hands on your head until I say otherwise.”

“Okay.”

“The proper response is ‘yes, miss.’”

A patch of goose flesh rippled up his neck. This was far more exciting than it had ever been in his imagination, and they hadn’t even done anything dirty yet. “Yes, miss.”

“Much better.” Her finger trailed down his belly, and she sauntered around to the side, dragging her hand over his ribs as she circled him.

He lost sight of her as she moved behind him, but he could feel the subtle vibration of her body, the warmth of her skin baking him like the sun. Her hand was the only point of contact, and she made good use of his overstimulated nerves by lightly skimming her palm up his spine until her fingers carded through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Shivering, Draco closed his eyes and mashed his lips together so he wouldn’t giggle. She was much better at this than he’d expected, but it kind of felt as if they were play acting. His cock had no qualms, however, dubbing it the hottest production ever, and he definitely didn’t want to stop; but his brain couldn't decide how to react to this bizarre new plot twist, and nervous laughter bubbled to his lips unheeded.

Her fingers cascaded down his back, tickling him and leaving a ghostly trail of tingling tracks in their wake.

“So pretty,” Hermione purred. “And this,” she said, grabbing his bum in both hands, “this belongs to me now. Doesn’t it?”

Draco’s eyes went wide. _What a strong grip you have, Mistress Granger. Why don’t you come around front and make sure my cock belongs to you too._ “Yes, miss. All yours.” Truer words were never spoken.

“Mmmmm,” she murmured, giving his arse a light slap though his clothing. “All this to do with as I please. Where should I begin?” 

_Mycockmycockmycock._

She strolled back around to the front, drawing her hand around his waist and tucking her index finger into the waistband of his trousers. _Oh, thank Merlin!_ His dick was suffocating in there. _Let me out._

Hermione’s brow quirked when she spotted his predicament, and she smiled up at him, following the length of his zip with one finger. “What’s this? Are you already hard before I’ve even gotten your trousers off?”

His cock twitched riotously, and his vision began to go sparkly around the edges. He should probably try breathing in the next few seconds. “Yes, miss.”

His respiratory plans were put on hold when she began to idly tap at his belt, her fingernail drumming the clasp as if she was debating whether to take it off. He was just beginning to think she was going to leave him locked in his trousers forever, when she flipped out the end and, with the most agonizing display of patience, eased the leather free, slipping it from his belt loops.

Draco blew out all the air in his lungs then inhaled as if she’d been holding him underwater.

Hermione looked up at him and smirked. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

Of course he was bloody well loving it! His dream girl was having her way with him. What was there not to like? “Yes, miss.”

She moved in closer, not quite touching him, but near enough that his cock could have poked her had it been free. Her hand slid over his crotch, and with barely any pressure, she cupped his bulge, her fingers wiggling lightly under his sac. “When was the last time you came?”

His exhale rattled past his parted lips. “This morning, miss.”

“Were you wanking, or did you have a particularly nice dream?”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Wanking, miss.” He knew he was blushing, but he wasn’t sure why. He’d never been embarrassed about tossing one off before, but something about the tone of her voice made him feel like a teenager who’d been caught out after curfew.

_I’m a very bad boy, Miss Granger. That wanking was done in your honor, but I’m afraid it was a tad on the disrespectful side. Or do you always beg for a good titty fucking after a soapy shower?_

Her brown eyes burned into his, making his heart skip a beat. Oh gods, she wasn’t a Legilimens, was she?

“That was very naughty. From now on you only come when I say so. Is that clear?”

If she wasn’t careful, he was going to come right then and there. She patted his placket, and his stomach flipped over and stuck the landing in his lower intestines. He’d do anything she wanted. Anything. “Yes, miss. I understand.”

“Good. Now . . . are these trousers getting uncomfortable?”

“Yes, miss!”

Snickering, she nodded. “I bet they are. Too bad you’ve been touching yourself without my permission. That means ten with the belt first.”

Draco groaned in his head but nodded enthusiastically. He did want the belt—he just wished his dick was out while she was giving it to him so he didn’t wind up stuck to his shorts again. “Yes, miss.”

“Bend over. Hands on your shins. I want to hear you counting, and you’re to say, ‘I will not touch my cock unless miss tells me to,’ after each hit.”

There was no hesitation. He was in position the second she ordered it. “Yes, miss.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched as she did her slinky kitten walk to get into place. Where the hell did she learn to move like that? The sway of her hips was wank-worthy all on its own, and her arse looked absolutely scrummy in those knickers. 

Hermione slapped the leather over her hand, and Draco jumped at the sound. The crack of leather released a flood of adrenaline that surged through him like wave. She did it again, and he realized she was testing to see how hard to hit him.

Hermione touched his lower back and, with her other hand, tapped the leather against his bum. “Ready?”

“Yes, miss.”

The belt lifted away, and there was a long pause as Draco waited for the resulting sting. His ears picked up every sound in the room, and he heard the soft friction of her skin as she brought the belt down with a light flick.

 _Swack_.

He barely felt the leather, but his nerves were so geared up that his body shuddered as some of the tension diffused. “One. I will not touch my cock unless miss tells me to.”

“Legs further apart.”

Draco widened his stance and re-braced his hands. The new position made his balls feel far more vulnerable, but that just added to the slew of strange new feelings their game had inspired.

_Swack!_

That one was a bit harder. He actually felt a slight sting. “Two. I will not touch my cock unless miss tells me to.”

_Swack!_

His eyes went wide for a second then he had to choke down another round of anxiety-giggles. His angel was not only kinky but adept with a belt. That hit had some real heat behind it. “Three. I will not touch my cock unless miss tells me to.”

_SWACK!_

Holy fuck! He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. His dick was drooling, rabid for more leather. “Four. I will not touch my cock unless miss tells me to.”

_SWACK!_

He grunted and dropped his head, staring at the carpet in a daze. His entire body was begging for the belt, but his brain had gone all fuzzy. “Five,” he said automatically. “I will not touch my cock unless miss tells me to.”

_SWACK!_

His erection was suddenly on the verge of snapping all the teeth in his zip. “Six. I will not touch my cock unless miss tells me to.”

_SWACK!_

“Mm!” he grunted. “Seven. I will not touch my cock unless miss tells me to.”

“Stand up.”

It took him a second to decipher that order, and it took him even longer to straighten without spraining his length in the shrinking confines of his trousers. When he was standing, she came around and unfastened his flies, her crafty little fingers caressing and stroking him as she lowered the zip. His trousers dropped below his arse, and his hard-on sighed in relief. _Finally! Bless the banshees!_ She left his boxer briefs where they were and returned to her post at his posterior.

“Back into position,” she said softly.

As if he’d been Imperiused, Draco bent back over and gripped his legs. The partial liberation blended with the sexual heat burning through his loins, which unfortunately coalesced into a superstorm of sensation. Her hand was on his arse, stroking him through that last layer, and Draco was floating out to sea on a current of pleasure.

“How’s your bottom feeling?”

Although he couldn’t see her face, he could hear the smile in her words. “Hot, miss.”

“Just three more. Do you think you can take them?”

Take them? He’d be lucky not to blow his load before she finished. “Yes, miss. I can take them.”

“All right. You’re doing very well. Keep counting for me.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes, miss.”

Hermione tapped his backside a few times more, measuring out her swing, then Draco felt the sharp snap of leather lashing over his buttocks.

Fucking hell! Losing that one layer was quite a change in intensity. He desperately wanted to grab his cock and pump as the sting coursed through his cheeks, but that probably wasn’t allowed. They were doing all this under the pretext of punishment after all.

“Eight,” he grunted through his teeth. “I will not touch my cock unless miss tells me to.”

_SWACK!_

Draco took a deep breath—body and brain in a raging battle. His genitalia insisted it was time to come, while his pride demanded they wait. He wanted to be Hermione’s good boy, but . . . bloody hell, his balls weren’t used to hearing the word no.

“I don’t hear you counting,” she said, sounding a bit more concerned than stern.

“Nine. I will not touch my cock unless miss tells me to.”

“Are you really all right?” she asked, caressing his left cheek with the tips of her fingers.

“I’m really close, miss.”

“Don’t you dare come, Draco.” Her tone had changed in an instant. “That cream is mine. Do you understand me?” She sounded quite serious.

“Yes, miss.”

“Okay. Keep still.”

Draco mashed his lips together and waited for the next blow.

_Swack!_

She’d dialed back the impact, but his dick didn’t get the memo. He begged it to just hold on a bit longer. “Ten. I will not touch my cock unless miss tells me to.”

“Stand. Hands on your head.”

Draco did so, heaving out a deep sigh, relieved he’d made it to the end without embarrassing himself.

Hermione came around and eyed the tent in his shorts. “You took that very well,” she said with a smirk of perverse congratulations. “Did you enjoy the belt?”

Shite. What was he supposed to say? Maybe he wasn’t supposed to enjoy the punishment. But if she was after the truth, he didn’t want to lie to her. “I don’t know, miss.”

“You don’t know?” Hermione curled one finger into his elastic waistband and pulled it out so she could peek into his underwear. “It certainly _looks_ like you enjoyed it. Is your cock lying to me?”

He smiled. “No, miss.”

She let go of the elastic with a soft snap and palmed his manhood, groping him through the cotton. “It feels as though you’ve sprung a leak.” She ran her thumb over the circle of pre-cum soaking through the front. “I think a response like this deserves a thank you.”

Draco couldn’t agree more. “Yes, miss. Thank you for punishing me.”

“Did you learn your lesson?”

“My cock is yours, miss.”

She grinned. “That’s right. Now that we’ve dealt with the discipline, let's move on to the fun part, shall we?”

He nodded wholeheartedly. “Yes, please, miss.”

“I’ll just take these off and check your arse to make sure you’re ready to play.”

Draco bit back a groan as she knelt and carefully pulled down his boxer-briefs. His dick burst onto the scene, bobbing in her face and pleading for some attention, but Hermione just smiled at its antics and let his shorts fall to the floor.

“Bend over,” she said as she rose and began to circle behind him.

His hand itched to calm his frantic cock, but he managed to resist the temptation. His knob poked his stomach as he got into place, smearing his abdominals with wet stripes of pre-ejaculate. When she touched his throbbing bum, he swallowed down a grunt of excitement, but when he felt her hand wandering over his bollocks, all restraint was lost. Her fingers flitted across his sac and then pressed into his buttocks as if she were checking to see if he’d been thoroughly cooked. Her careful inspection was quite and turn on, and Draco wasn’t surprised to feel a fresh drip of fluid fall from his glans. He’d always enjoyed being the center of attention, but this was taking that to a whole new level. Girls usually enjoyed checking him out—and who could blame them—but none of them had ever studied his backside like a damn detective. She wasn’t fawning over him or ogling his arse, she was critiquing her work and laying claim to her property.

At least that was what he hoped she was doing.

There was some gentle stroking of his crack and then, slowly, torturously, she spread his cheeks apart. Draco gasped and went still, his balls clenching up, on the verge of ejecting his entire haul.

“It’s all right,” she whispered, kneading his bum. “I’m just looking.”

Obviously. If she’d been touching him there, he would have been coming all over the carpet.

Releasing his cheeks, she patted his arse to indicate she’d finished. “Now everyone will know you’re mine,” she said with a note of glee.

Draco smirked. _Damn straight I’m yours. But who do you think I’m going to let see this?_ “Yours, miss.”

“It’s just a little red. I’ll put some cream on it later.”

“Thank you, miss.”

“All right,” she said, running her hand down his back. “Let’s go to my room. Step out of your clothes and get back on your hands and knees.”

Somehow Draco found himself naked and on all fours with no memory of how he’d gotten there. But when he looked up at her, dazed and desperate, she gave him an approving nod that made him want to sit up and beg.

Hermione smiled slyly and turned her back to him, heading toward the bedroom. “Come along.”

Draco crawled after her, staring at her black lace bum the whole way. The curving tick-tock of her cheeks was hypnotic.

“Up on the bed—on your back,” she told him when they reached her room.

Draco climbed up and rolled onto his back, his eyes locked on her, searching for a clue about what might happen next. She flicked her wand at him, and silk scarves shot out, coiling around his wrists and ankles like black serpents. He was too surprised to really contemplate their purpose. When his brain began to operate again, he realized his legs were pulled wide and both wrists were bound together in front of him.

He tested their strength, but she had him stuck tight. Looking to her for some kind of explanation, Draco was ecstatic to see her pulling off her bra. Her tits fell free, and he was immediately transported to a jiggly paradise.

Lifting her hands to her shoulders, she brushed her fingers down her naked chest, going slowly, tickling and caressing with the gentlest of touches. Draco was spellbound. As her fingers descended, they bumped over the stiff cliffs of her nipples, strumming them lightly as she passed. Draco groaned pitifully. He should have been the one doing that for her, but his hands were literally tied.

“Is this what that pretty cock of yours likes so much?” she asked, her voice husky with arousal.

 _Love, this is what leaves me stuck to the bed every morning_. He would have told her that, but his brain had lost some functionality since she’d gone topless. He just nodded stupidly and kept his eyes on her breasts.

“What about this?” she purred as her fingers skated down to her knickers. “Is this why you’re so hard?”

Her hand dipped into the front of her panties, and he gawked at the sight of her petting her pussy behind that sheer layer. He couldn’t really see what she was doing, but her knickers were small enough to give him some vivid clues.

When she withdrew her hand, her fingers glistened in the lamplight, covered in a copious cache of her lubrication. Bringing them to her mouth, she gently parted her lips and forced him to watch as she licked away her lust. Draco made an inarticulate noise of desperation and tried to sit up.

“No, no,” she admonished. “You stay right where you are.”

Draco huffed and dropped his head back, staring at the ceiling. All the swirly designs in the plaster looked like tits. Great. His brain had officially abandoned him.

“How rude of me,” she said in mock horror. “I should have asked if you wanted any.”

Draco picked up his head to look at her. Was this a trick? Her hand disappeared into her knickers again, and he licked his lips as she sloshed through her folds in search of libations.

“Did you want some?”

He nodded. “Yes, miss. Please!”

She slunk to the bed like a prowling lioness, the most lascivious look on her face. He knew he was panting, but he couldn’t seem to close his mouth.

Hermione drew her hand from her knickers and rested it on her right breast. Draco stared, unblinking, as she smeared her stiff nipple with cream. Oh gods! He wanted that tit more than anything in the world.

With a sinuous swirl of her hips, she turned her back to him and hooked her thumbs in the sides of her knickers. Glancing over her shoulder, she flashed him a crafty smile and began to tease them down . . . inch by inch. Draco swallowed hard. She peeled the lace from her crevice and revealed a view that stopped his heart. Her slit shone in the warm light, and he could just spot her adorable little pucker peeking from between her cheeks. Was she trying to give him a heart attack? What man could resist such a voluptuous vista?

Growling loudly, he reached for his dick with both bound hands.

She whipped around. “Uh uh uh! You know better than that. What did we just learn in the other room?”

Draco whimpered and dropped his hands. “I don’t touch my cock unless miss tells me to.”

“That’s right. Only boys who follow the rules get to come. Do you want to come?”

“Yesssss,” he hissed, banging his head against the bed.

“That’s what I thought. Now, I can sit on your face and give you a taste, or I can relieve your problem with a quick hand job right now. Which would you prefer?”

He turned that over, suspecting it was some kind of riddle he didn’t understand yet. “Do you mean that I don’t get to eat your pussy if I take the wank?”

She shook her head. “That‘s right. If you show me how good you are with your mouth, I’ll ride your cock until you come inside me. So . . . which would you prefer?”

“Pussy pussy pussy!”

She smirked. “Pussy pussy pussy _what_?”

“Please! Miss!” He didn’t know which answer she wanted. “Please, miss, please!”

“All right, calm down.” She stepped out of her knickers and crawled up on the bed next to his shoulder. “I left your hands somewhat mobile so you could signal me if you needed air, _not_ so you could touch yourself. You’re to keep your hands on me at all times so I know you’re not being disobedient.”

“Yes, miss.”

“You tap my back three times if you need to breathe.”

“Yes, miss.”

Hermione smiled and bent down to kiss him, but her lips just barely brushed his before she pulled away. Draco whimpered for more, but she was already getting into place.

When she threw her leg over his head, he almost went into cardiac arrest. Her soft little muffin settled over his face, and he was assailed by the musky glory of her sex. Bloody hell. The scent struck him like a battalion of Bludgers. _Mine!_ Using his tongue to penetrate her outer lips, he tunneled his way into her twat. As soon as her flavor washed over his taste buds, he was reeling. _Oh gods, yes!_

Hermione moaned and circled her hips. Her slippery lips opened against his mouth, and her juice smeared all over his cheeks and chin. Draco lapped through her folds, rooting into her thicket in search of every trace of that salty syrup. He delved into each pocket and cranny in search of more sweet cream, and when he tried to suck the honey straight off her clit, she arched her back and ground her swollen nub into his mouth, giving him full access to her most sensitive area.

“Yessss,” she hissed. “Right there. Keep your hands on my back.”

Draco pressed the sides of his hands against her spine, stroking his thumbs over her soft skin as he devoured her. Matching his licking to the ticking of her hips, he let her body dictate the tempo.

“Oh gods, Draco. I’m so close! Don’t stop!”

Stop? He wasn’t stopping until he passed out. Just having her thighs wrapped around his face was like being smothered by heaven. If he could touch her tits, it would have been absolute perfection.

She undulated against his tongue and shouted his name. Draco was thirsty for her juice, and she didn’t disappoint. Extending his tongue, covering as much ground as he could, he let her grind her way to glory. Somewhere in her folds he must have hit the orgasmic jackpot, because her pussy spontaneously shot a stream of watery arousal all over his face.

It ran down his jaw, each rill tickling his neck as it forged a new path along his flesh. Draco wanted more; he wanted to drown in her lust. _He_ made her come like that. Not his father. Not Snape. Him.

“Mmmmmm,” she moaned as she came back down to earth. “Good boy. Very . . . _very_ good boy.”

Draco greedily laved her dripping lips, and an aftershock rolled through her body.

“Okay,” she panted, lifting her hips. “I think you’ve proven yourself worthy.”

His head was spinning, but he nodded all the same. “Thank you, miss.”

Hermione smiled and shimmied down his body. His hands were trapped between them, but she rose up to give him room.

“Pull up your arms for me.”

Draco wiggled his arms up to his chest, and she grabbed him by the wrists. Was he just knackered, or was she stronger than she appeared? She pinned his hands above his head so her breasts were strategically pressed into his face.

“That’s for you. I know what you like.”

Draco found her spiked nipple with his tongue and groaned in pleasure. It was the breast she’d basted in her juices earlier. Latching on, he sucked the salty coating from her skin. “Please, miss,” he mumbled around her. “My cock aches.”

“I know, love,” she murmured, shifting her hips back so his knob nudged her slit. “Let’s get you taken care of.”

She sank down, arching her spine and rolling her pelvis so he was snuggled into her slick opening. Draco’s eyes went wide as her body drew him in and wrapped him in satin heat. Why were tight trousers so torturous, but tight pussy so magical? That was a head scratcher. She must have enjoyed the penetration as much as he did, because she made a croaky mewl of excitement and wandlessly released his restraints.

Her wandless magic wasn’t very precise; he was freed, but the scarves didn’t disappear. Keeping hold of his wrists, she began to ride him. Her breast shimmied against his lips as she bounced, and her nipple melted in his mouth like marmalade.

Draco bent his knees and curled up his pelvis so she could fully seat herself on his length. Her grip on his wrists tightened, and without warning, she picked up the pace. Draco gasped around her tit, but he’d stuffed his mouth so full he couldn’t inhale. A keening of panic spilled out around her areola, and he struggling in her grip, trying to stop her relentless ride—but to no avail. Her pounding tipped him past the point of no return.

Jerking into her, he released all the tension that had been building in his bollocks since she’d opened her front door and smiled at him. His cock pulsed, sending his brain careening and his body soaring. His skin tingled and throbbed, as if the orgasm were spreading over his flesh like a river of Fiendfyre. Draco shouted her name around her nipple, but it came out sounding like the cries of a madman. Never had he experienced anything so spectacular. It seemed as if every organ in his body was following the tide of his testes—pulsating and glowing with pleasure.

When his balls were laid to waste, she went still and released his hands; and Draco let her tit pop from his mouth so he could gasp in a lungful of fresh air.

Hermione stroked the top of his head and smiled down at him. “So how did you like that?”

She looked so damn happy. Giddy in fact. Thank Merlin. “I think if you ever get tired of working at the Ministry, you could have a lucrative career in the dominatrix field.”

She laughed and kissed his damp forehead. “I’ll keep that in mind. You must have liked it quite a bit; I’ve never seen you come so fast.”

Draco sighed. Was that a dig? “Well that’s what you get for teasing me for so long and then riding me like a racehorse.”

Hermione snorted and rested her head on his shoulder, panting against his neck as she caught her breath. “I thought it was sexy as hell. I like seeing you out of your mind like that.”

Draco grinned. Ah. Not a dig at all. More of a compliment. “I’m always out of my mind with you.”

“Mmmmm,” she hummed happily. “You’re sweet. Want to take a shower in a little bit?”

Draco wrapped his arms around her and nodded. “Anything you want.”

“I want to stay like this until you fall out of me.”

“That might take awhile.” His erection didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Hermione playfully ground her hips into him. “Mm! Maybe we should go for round two then.”

Draco smiled and grabbed her arse, slowly thrusting into her from below. The girl was insatiable. _I could get used to this._ “Your wish is my command . . . miss.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natural--A symbol in sheet music that returns a note to its original pitch after it has been augmented or diminished.
> 
> "Self Control" by Laura Branigan. Released 1984. Written by Giancarlo Bigazzi, Raffaele Riefoli, and Steve Piccolo. Italian singer Raffaele Riefoli (Raf), wrote and released the song the same year as Branigan. Both versions of the song were popular across Europe. Raf's version became no. 1 in Italy, and Branigan's peaked at no. 4 on the Billboard Top 100 chart.  
> Branigan's video for the song was directed by William Friedkin (The Exorcist), and if you like 80's videos that leave you wondering if someone slipped shrooms in your sandwich, this is the video for you. (I'm having major childhood flashbacks watching this. Oh God! The hands reaching through the walls! Yes!)  
> [Raf's Version](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=7w1Qo1awwI4)  
> [Branigan's Version](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=miGUnKWcYeo)


	21. Serenade

21—Serenade

“Je vois la vie en rose.”—Édith Piaf

(Hermione)  

Hermione came home from work Tuesday evening to find a bundle of roses on her doorstep. The blooms were orange, but the edges were tipped in blood red; the effect was stunning, as if the sunset had melted across each petal. She picked up the bouquet and discovered a card beneath the green florist wrapping.

Mr. Malfoy’s refined penmanship was immediately identifiable. _Uh oh_. Lucius was a bloody wonder in bed, but after her Sunday with Draco, she was more confused than ever. They’d spent the rest of the night giggling and kissing like a couple of hormone-addled teenagers, but it had seemed like more than just fooling around. Each time they slept together, Hermione felt a little closer to Draco, a little more attached. And she could swear Draco felt the same way, but when she tried to get any kind of definitive answer from him, he looked decidedly uncomfortable, as if he wanted to turn tail and run. Hermione didn’t want to ruin their friendship by pushing him toward something he wasn’t ready for.

Did that mean she shouldn’t see Lucius anymore? What about Snape? The thought of losing all that snarky grey matter sent her into a pedantic panic. Who else wanted to talk about obscure articles in research journals? How many men did she know who spent their free time with books and beakers? Where else would she ever find that caliber of mental stimulation?

And who else lent her books that left her wetter than Loch Ness? She couldn’t attribute _all_ of Snape’s appeal to his mind—although that did certainly sweeten the deal. He had a lot to offer her physically as well. A _whole_ lot.

Hermione didn’t know what was going on with Lucius. She didn’t feel as close to him as she did to Draco, and he didn’t have Snape’s intellectual draw.

But he was interesting . . . and exciting . . . and sexy as all get out. She felt a bit vain that she wanted a man for such a shallow reason. Draco was good looking too, but Lucius seemed to have been designed strictly for female pleasure. Was it wrong to find that so appealing? She had nothing against sex for the sake of sex, but with the confusion of Draco and Snape added to the mix, she was swimming in a sea of uncertainty.

Carrying the flowers and card inside with her things, she set them on the kitchen table and sat down to read the note.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_I’ve been thinking about our last meal together. What you said is weighing on my mind. I am lonely. But being with you has been a revelation. I don’t talk to many witches with your sense of charity or thoughtfulness. You’re a strange creature. One I’d like to know better. I would be honored if you would agree to go out to dinner with me again this week. I know a quiet restaurant where we can be alone—the finest French cuisine. Tell me what day you’re free, and I’ll make reservations. How about tomorrow? I’ll pick you up after work. Wear your finest dress robes. (And stockings.)_

_Owl me when you decide,_

_L. Malfoy_

Hermione was glad she was sitting down, because that wasn’t what she’d been expecting. Except for the stocking comment, he hadn’t made a single sexual suggestion. Lucius Malfoy the hopeful admirer was infinitely more likable than Lucius Malfoy the conceited pureblood.

Well, great. The complications just kept coming.

Her brain begged her to accept simply to find out what he had in store; and curiosity _was_ a potent aphrodisiac. Hmmmmm.

Dammit! Why did she have to be so enamored of puzzles? Lucius had given her just enough of a peek to make her mental. That invitation didn’t sound like the first two at all. There was a hint of vulnerability, a smidgen of honesty and openness. Maybe Lucius needed a sympathetic ear. Maybe a little understanding would help him heal. _Maybe you’re looking for altruistic excuses so you can sleep with him again without_ _feeling_ _like a giant slag._

Hermione looked down at his note again, debating whether or not that was true. With a sigh, she admitted it wasn’t totally false. Just like with Draco and Snape, there was a mixture of sexual and non-sexual reasons fueling her interest. Should she penalize Lucius because so much of what they shared was physical? He deserved the chance to show her who he really was, and they hadn't had sufficient time to get to know one another properly. Even after years of friendship, she was still getting to know Draco. And Snape . . . bloody hell, she might never understand that man, but she had still agreed to meet him, and look how well that had turned out.

Crumbling under the weight of intrigue, Hermione found a quill and parchment and penned a quick reply.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_I am free tomorrow night. I'll be home by six, but if you want me to look nice, you’ll have to give me another half hour. I’ve never been required to wear dress robes to a restaurant before. I look forward to a new experience. I love French food, so thank you for thinking of me._

_Until tomorrow,_  

_Hermione_

She had to go into the city to send the owl, and while she was out, she picked up a new pair of stockings. 

Her others were laddered beyond repair. 

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

As soon as she got off work the next day, Hermione hustled home and started getting ready. She didn't want to look like a dumpy lump next to Lucius. Although . . . everyone kind of paled in comparison to Lucius. Except Narcissa. Hermione couldn't compete on that level, but she could do her best.

After styling her hair in a bulky French twist, she applied some smokey eye makeup and a nice lipstick. With the help of her trusty push-up bra, she took the girls from work mode to display ready; dress robes always made her look flatter than a brick wall, so she needed all the help she could get. The garter belt came next. That thing was getting more use in the past two weeks than it had gotten in years. Money well spent. After carefully rolling on her stockings, she stepped into her nicest burgundy dress robes and then her black heels. All she needed was a little something to polish off the ensemble. In her jewelry box, she found a pair of gold earrings that brought out the highlights in her hair and eyes. Perfect.

Checking herself in the mirror, she was surprised by her own reflection. She actually looked quite pretty. Or at least better than usual.

A knock came from the front room, and she jumped, her eyes darting to the clock. The time had gotten away from her—it was already 6:45.

Hermione grabbed her clutch and shoved her wand inside. “Coming!”

Dashing down the hall and into the front room, she yanked open the front door and skidded to a halt.

Fucking hell.

Normal, everyday Lucius was hot, but dressed-up Lucius was a real knicker-drencher. It was like an angel and Prince Charming had gotten it on and had some x-rated lovechild. Good thing Snape wasn't there with his super sniffer; apparently her pussy was extremely fond of handsome. 

His grey eyes ran up and down her body, unapologetically checking her out. “Miss Granger, you look stunning. I must invite you out more often. Are you ready? I thought you might need some extra time, so I came a bit late.”

“Yes, I'm ready. But I did need the extra time—something always takes longer than expected.” 

He held out his arm to her. "I've had years of waiting practice. Narcissa could spend hours getting dressed.”

Hermione took his elbow, and they started down the walkway. With an unobtrusive twist, she aimed her clutch over her shoulder and warded her flat as they headed off. “We won’t be late for our reservation, will we?”

Lucius smiled to himself and shook his head. “We have plenty of time.”

Stepping into the nearest alley, Mr. Malfoy moved in close, lightly draping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her body against his. Mmmm, she’d forgotten the perks of side-along Apparition. Her breasts were pressed to the hard planes of his abdominals, and with a little maneuvering, she felt the soft bulge of his crotch against her belly. The travel accommodations were top notch. Under the pretense of Apparition preparation, Hermione leaned in and surreptitiously sniffed his chest. Damn, he smelled good.

“Ready?”

She looked up, feigning propriety. “Yes, sir.”

Malfoy smirked and stroked her cheek with one finger. “Call me Lucius tonight.”

The way he hovered above her, as if they were moments from a first kiss, filled her stomach with antsy butterflies. “Okay. Lucius.”

His smirk shifted to a grin. “Hold on tight.”

 _I’m way ahead of you, Lumpy_ _McTrouserson_ _._ Smiling, she curled into him and told Muffy to stop drooling.

His snake-headed walking stick whipped around them, and Hermione folded into nothingness. They reappeared in an even darker alley, but the street beyond was bright with flickering illumination.

He guided her out to the bustling thoroughfare, and Hermione blinked hard to make sure her eyes hadn’t gone wonky. Seriously? She blinked again. Nope, she wasn’t hallucinating. It was still there. And as far as she knew, there was only one Eiffel Tower. “Lucius . . . this is Paris.”

He urged her down the sidewalk, a smug smirk celebrating his successful surprise. “Where else would I get French food? And technically this is La Rue de la Magie.” 

Wizarding Paris. It was beautiful. “I went to Dijon with my parents when I was younger,” she said as they passed a parade of well-dressed witches and wizards out for a night on the town.

His brows perked. "Did you? Visiting relatives?”

“No, just a holiday.”

“Did you go to The Dijon Cathedral?”

“Oh, yes. And the Musee des Beaux-Arts at the Palais des ducs et des États de Bourgogne, and le Jardin Botanique de l'Arquebuse. They were all magnificent.”

“Do you speak French?” he asked, sounding impressed.

Hermione blushed. “Not enough to make the locals like me.”

He laughed loudly, and she wondered if she'd ever heard him sound so unguarded.

“So you’ve never been to Paris?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the surroundings.

“No. This is wonderful, Lucius. I’ll never forget it.” She stared out at the sea of lights, grateful that Malfoy was piloting their walk so she could gawk without tripping. The entire city was bathed in a golden glow of twinkling incandescence. It was as if the stars had all fallen to earth to make the city glitter.

“Here we are,” he said, nodding at a tall building. “L’Hôtel de la Lumière. Best chef in the city.”

The doorman opened the door for her, nodding stiffly as they passed, but she noticed his eyes lingering over her low neckline. Lucius must have seen it too, because he possessively slipped his arm around her.

The hotel lobby was a testament to the grandeur of modern architecture. The lights inside were just as breathtaking as the ones outside. Lucius led her through the maze of people, past an arguing Russian couple with a little boy, who was nursing a lolly with absolute concentration, past a tall man in a turban, who had an blinking eye tattooed in the center of his forehead, and past a gaggle of bell hops, who all stopped talking to watch her walk by.

 _Maybe I look better than I thought,_ she mused with a rush of confidence _._ They arrived at an enormously tall door that opened into a lavish dining room, and a posh man with a bad comb-over greeted them in French-accented English.

“Ah. Monsieur Malfoy. Your table has been prepared. Are you ready to be seated?”

“Yes, Alphonse.”

“Right this way.”

They wove through tables of stylish patrons, following Alphonse’s tux tails like a black beacon. The huge hall filtered off into a few smaller rooms, and they were led to one such annex by the rigid maître d’. Leaving behind the vast opulence of the dining room, they stepped into another world, the atmosphere much more intimate and secluded. The tables were half the size and set further apart, buffeted by large potted plants to give the diners ample privacy. They were taken to a cozy table in one corner, where Alphonse pulled out her chair for her and politely made her comfortable. Mr. Malfoy waited until she was settled then took his own seat.

With a sharp click of Alphonse’s fingers, water and menus appeared before them, the crystal glasses sparkling in the candlelight. “Henri will be with you shortly,” he announced with a short bow.

Lucius nodded, and the man left them in their own personal dining jungle. 

Hermione did a quick once over of the room, but couldn’t see much through the greenery, so she picked up her menu and examined the selections—all in French—and was concerned that nothing had a price listed. That, combined with the limited number of choices, suggested that the restaurant was indeed five-star—and probably cost a fortune. 

“What are you having?” she asked hesitantly.

Lucius squinted at the menu, his grey eyes rapidly scanning the list. “Pâté de foie gras. Coq au vin. And probably a nice Camembert with my wine. Have you decided?”

“I think I’ll start with the basil salmon terrine. Then I can’t decide between the duck or the cassoulet.”

“Their canard a l’orange is excellent.”

“All right, duck it is. I guess I’ll try the Camembert . . . or maybe I’ll have the chocolate mousse.”

He smirked. "It comes with strawberries."

With a daring arch of one brow, she smiled back. “Sounds like my kind of dish.” 

Henri, who had the baby face of a teenager but the poise of a man twice twenty, appeared soon after, and they placed their orders; Lucius was offered the wine list, but he waved it off and requested a bottle of their finest champagne. It was summoned immediately, complete with temperature-control bucket and tulip-shaped flutes. After smoothly opening the bottle and pouring them each a glass, Henri set off for the kitchen.

When they were alone again, Lucius sat back and crossed his legs, studying her as he absently traced the base of his glass with one finger. Hermione sat back too, not wanting to appear unnerved by his gaze.

“So is Dijon as far as you’ve been?” he asked politely.

Hermione nodded. “I’ve always wanted to come to Paris, but I’m so caught up with work. Plus, I didn’t want to go by myself, but now everybody is married and busy with families.”

“I could bring you back anytime you like. I know the city well.”

That was kind of him, and she really did want to visit the city with someone who knew its finer points. “Maybe when my next holiday rolls around we could go to the Louvre.”

He nodded, the hint of a smile twitching up the corners of his mouth. “I’d like that. Draco and Narcissa never wanted to go to the museums; they just wanted to shop.”

He sounded genuinely interested, and that sparked Hermione’s imagination. “Oh, I’d like to go to the Musée d’Orsay too, and Montmartre,” she said excitedly.

Lucius‘s smile warmed with pleasure. “Sounds lovely. The Palais Garnier has an opera library if you’re interested. I could keep watch while you have a go in the stacks.”

Hermione blushed but couldn’t keep a chagrined smile from emerging. “You’re hilarious,” she quipped dryly. “I wouldn’t mind actually going to see an opera though.”

“They mostly have ballet there now. The Opéra Bastille has the operas.”

“I like ballet too. I’d love to see both.”

“A fan of ballet as well? I’ve hit the cultural mother lode. What’s your favorite ballet?”

“I haven’t seen a whole lot, but I like _Giselle_ , and _Swan Lake_ , and _Romeo and Juliet_. But I also like the more modern stuff like Twyla Tharp. What do you like?”

“Maybe _The Firebird_ is my favorite. But I‘m a huge fan of Balanchine’s choreography. I got to see Baryshnikov in my younger years.”

“Really? How was he?”

“Bloody brilliant,” he said with a rapturous roll of his eyes. “Spellbinding. We should see what they’re putting on soon. What about operas—what’s your favorite? _Cadmus et Hermione?_ ”

She laughed. “I’ve never seen it, but I like Mozart and Verdi. What about you?”

“Wagner is my favorite. But I like Strauss and Mozart too. Especially Don Giovanni.”

How very Lucius. “What about other theatre? Do you go to plays?”

“I haven’t been in ages, but I love Shakespeare. I’ve seen almost all of them.”

“I love Shakespeare too! Nobody else I know does.”

“Snape likes it. It’s the only theatre we’ve ever been to together.”

“So he doesn’t like opera and ballet?”

Lucius snorted. “Can you picture Snape at the ballet? I felt like it was a feat just to get him out of his lab to see _Julius Caesar_.”

“Is that your favorite?”

“It’s one of my favorites. I think I like _MacBeth_ and _Hamlet_ more.”

“I like _A Midsummer’s_ _Nights_ _Dream_ . . . and _Twelfth Night_.”

“A comedy lover,” he murmured. “I pictured you more as a Romeo and Juliet fan.”

“Oh, I love it too, but I like the sarcasm of the comedies.”

“Do you like other theatre?” he asked, leaning in.

“I like it all. I’ve been to lots of musicals.”

“I’m picky about musicals. I’m not a fan of the older ones, but I think some of the newer shows are actually decent. The less cheesy the better.”

She grinned. “So you don’t want to see _Annie_ with me?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Definitely not.”

“How about _Sweeney Todd_?”

A surprised smile lit his face. “I didn’t think you’d go for something so macabre.”

“I love it. I’ve got a heart-on for Sondheim.”

Lucius burst out laughing. “Well, in that case, I’ll have to get us a private box at the next West End revival.”

The waiter brought their first course, and Hermione and Lucius put their conversation on hold until he left.

When he’d gone, Hermione sampled her salmon terrine. The fish and cream cheese practically melted on her tongue. “This is amazing!”

Lucius tested his foie gras and nodded with far more decorum. “As good as I remember.”

She gestured at his plate. “You know how they make that, don’t you?”

He sighed. “Of course I know how they make it.”

“Force feeding ducks sounds horrid. How can you eat that?”

"Because it’s delicious. Would you like to try some?” he asked, leering as he held his spoon toward her.

She shook her head and backed away. “No _thank_ you.”

Malfoy shrugged. “More for me. I take it you like the symphony too,” he said, continuing their earlier conversation.

“Oh, yes. Very much. Let me guess . . . you like Wagner and Strauss again.”

He nodded. “I do. But I like Mozart and Chopin too.”

“I like Chopin too, but I love Beethoven the most.”

“You like passionate composers.”

"Yes, I guess I do. I like passionate painters too.”

“We should go to the Musée Picasso. You’d like it there.”

"Sounds nice. Where can we see Van Gogh?”

“The Musée D’Orsay. Is he your favorite?”

She nodded. “I like Gauguin too. And Klimt.”

"Nothing more classical?" he asked with a smirk of amusement.

“Oh, I like DaVinci, and I _love_ Bernini’s sculptures.”

His smirk spread to a curling grin. “You are definitely an _Ecstasy of Saint Teresa_ kind of witch.”

She blushed but couldn’t deny it was one of her favorites. “I was thinking more _Blessed Ludovica Albertoni_.”

Lucius choked on his foie gras and had to take a sip of champagne to clear his throat. “Hear, hear,” he muttered in agreement, raising his glass to her. When he noticed that she’d abandoned her first course, he gave her a concerned frown, “How’s your salmon?”

“Still marvelous. I just don’t want to fill up before the duck.”

He nodded and took another bite. “They use bread as a palate cleanser here.” His spoon flashed toward the bread basket. “Salmon and basil won’t mix well with the orange sauce.”

Hermione broke off a bit of French bread and nibbled as she looked around the room. There were about five other couples hidden among the fronds. “I guess there are too many people for our usual palate cleanser.”

His granite eyes danced with mirth. “Perhaps I can arrange a second dessert later tonight. How does cream pie sound?”

She hid her laugh as Henri suddenly appeared with their entrees.

When he placed the dish before her, Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled the warm aroma. The dish was beautiful—sliced duck drizzled in a dark orange sauce. There were four orange wedges interspersed with baby carrots around the perimeter. She almost didn’t want to ruin the artistry by eating it.

Lucius started on his coq au vin, but watched her from the corner of his eye. “Are you going to just stare at that all night?”

“I feel bad messing up their work.”

Malfoy snickered and shook his head. “Eat it while it's hot. There’s nothing pleasant about cold canard.”

She picked up her knife and cut off a bite. Spearing it with her fork, she lifted it to her lips. The tart sweetness of the orange turned the duck into a mouthwatering morsel of sheer delight. “Oh. My. God. How is this so good?”

“Makes dessert seem unnecessary, doesn’t it?” he replied knowingly.

“Yeeeeees,” she moaned, cutting off another bite. “Whoever made this deserves the Nobel Prize.”

Malfoy smiled and, under the table, slid his leg against hers. “I like seeing your eyes roll back like that.”

“I think I’m about to have a ducking orgasm.”

He covered his mouth with one hand and tried not to choke on his chicken.

“I need to learn how to make this sauce. Cock a l’orange sounds promising.”

Lucius set down his fork and took another sip of champagne, obviously trying to maintain some semblance of etiquette, but he sputtered into the glass when she licked the sauce from her fork with a shaky whimper.

“Maybe we can ask Severus to make you some,” Malfoy suggested. “He’s fond of food you can suck off another person.”

“Is he really?” She’d never thought about Snape sucking anything off her. The image was intriguing. “Like custard?”

“Why do you think it’s his signature dish?”

“I didn’t know it was.” Hermione stabbed into a carrot and tried it too. “Bloody hell!” she growled softly. “Something must be wrong with my carrots at home, because they don’t taste anything like this.”

“They peel and glaze them. It gets rid of any bitterness.”

“Snape should create a potion that makes semen taste like orange sauce. Unplanned pregnancy rates would drop to nothing once witches got a taste of it.”

With a large smile, Lucius started on his chicken again. “I assumed by the way you begged for more that you were quite fond of the natural taste.”

“It’s a flavor you have to get used to,” she replied, as if they were discussing fine cuisine. “But some wizards taste better than others. You, for instance, taste strongly of salted caramel.”

“Do I really?” he asked with a quirk of one eyebrow. “Snape tastes of butter pecan and bleach.”

Hermione burst into an indelicate guffaw, trying to restrain herself so the other patrons wouldn't stare. “All blokes taste like bleach. You have to ignore that bit.”

“I didn’t say I disliked it. When I was younger, the smell of chlorinated pools used to really get me going.”

Hermione almost snort-sprayed her duck all over him. Gulping down some water, she covered her face with her napkin and laughed into the linen.

When she’d recovered, she put her napkin back in her lap and studied him while he ate. Lucius was turning out to be a far more interesting man than she’d anticipated. “May I ask you a personal question?”

He nodded and took another bite, waiting for her to go on.

“Have you always been bi-sexual? I mean, how long have you been sleeping with men?”

Lucius paused his chewing and gave her a thoughtful look. “I knew when I was young. I fooled around at school, but Severus is the only man I’ve had any kind of long-term relationship with.”

“Have you ever loved another man?”

He seemed surprised by the question. “Romantically, I’ve only loved Narcissa; but . . . Severus is like a brother to me.”

“So you love him, you’re just not _in_ love with him?”

Malfoy spent several moments in silent consideration. “I guess that’s the easiest way to put it, but . . . I'm not sure it's that simple. I’ve never really analyzed us before.”

“Does he feel the same way about you?”

Lucius blinked, clearly thrown. “I’ve no idea. I assume so.”

Hermione polished off half her duck while she contemplated that tidbit of information. This night was going far better than she’d ever imagined. Lucius was relaxing around her, and she liked this side of him. He gave charm new meaning.

“May I ask you another question, Lucius?”

He looked up from his chicken and nodded. “You may.”

“What was Draco like as a small child?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Like he is now but shorter.”

She wasn’t quite sure what that meant. “How would you describe him now?”

“Childish. Needy.” Lucius leaned in as if preparing to tell a story. “When he was little, he used to beg me to take him to Gringotts to play in the vault while I finished business. He’d ask to go every single day, but when I’d take him, he’d drive me up the wall. ‘Daddy, what’s this? Daddy, look at me. Daddy, look how much gold I can fit in my pocket.’ It was bloody annoying. When I’d tell him to shut up and let me work, he’d sit on the floor and pout until I took him home—at which point, he’d run back to his mother and stay permanently attached to her leg for the rest of the night. He’s a mummy’s boy.”

Hermione set down her fork in mild horror. “Lucius, that is . . . _cold_. He obviously just wanted you to love him.”

Malfoy sighed sadly, and he stared at his champagne as if he couldn’t bear to look her in the eye. “I know. And I wish I’d handled things differently, but I didn’t realize then that my short fuse would bond him so tightly to Narcissa. I didn’t see the long term effects.”

“Which were?”

“A man child. He’s never grown up. Every time something goes wrong, he wants his mummy to come and make it better.”

Hermione was dazed by Lucius’s take on his son. Draco wanted affection. From everyone. Probably because he never got it from his father. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you like to be touched?”

Looking up, his blond brow furrowed. “By the right people, yes.”

“You liked it when your wife held you; it made you feel better?”

A wince of pain flashed across his face. “Yes.”

“Why is it okay for you to find solace in her embrace, but not Draco?”

He sat up straighter, his expression perplexed. “It’s not the same. I’m not needy—I’m physical. I took care of my family all day, and her touch kept me sane.”

“You took care of your family how?”

“By providing for them.”

“But not by loving your son?”

Lucius’s stormy eyes hardened, and he lowered his voice to a hiss, “I _do_ love my son. Don’t ever doubt that. I just wish he wasn’t so . . .”

_Much like your wife?_

“Desperate.”

Hermione leaned closer and reached out, putting her hand over his, and he stared at her fingers as if he’d never seen such a sight. “You’re so focused on how Draco is different from you, you don’t see how alike you two are.”

He tentatively ran his thumb over her fingers. “In what way?”

“You both need touch to feel complete. You both want to be loved.”

“Everyone wants to be loved.”

"But you two thrive on it. You’re both empty without it.”

He looked into her eyes, as if searching for something in their depths. His fingers continued their steady stroking, and she got the impression he couldn't stop himself. After an endless minute, he finally spoke. “Do you really think I’m empty?”

Hermione didn’t want to be rude; this man had brought her to Paris and fed her a meal fit for a queen. But she didn’t want to lie either. “I saw you after Narcissa died. You were broken. Draco was trying to hide his tears, and you were trying to hide your heart. I’d never seen you look wounded before. It was like you were suddenly human. I’m glad you’re better now, but something’s still missing from your life.”

His face went slack. “Love?”

She held his hand tighter. “Maybe just joy. You have love in your life, but until recently, I’d never seen you honestly smile.”

“Yes,” he muttered thoughtfully.

“Are you ready for dessert?” Henri asked quietly.

They both jumped and pulled their hands apart as if they’d been caught doing something indecent.

Lucius nodded. “Yes, I’m ready.”

Henri snapped his fingers, and a silver cart wheeled itself over to their table. He set Hermione’s mousse before her and took her dinner plate. After he removed Lucius’s plate, he set the cheese in its place and took their unfinished food back to the kitchen.

The silence between them was heavy when the waiter left. Dinner had taken a rather serious turn. In an attempt to dispel the discomfort, Hermione plucked a strawberry from the edge of the bowl and bit into it. It was juicy and sweet, and she had to catch a stream of liquid on her tongue before it ran down the corner of her mouth. Testing a tiny spoonful of mousse, she gave him an unsure smile. “It’s nowhere near as good as Snape’s custard.”

Lucius smirked wanly. “No. I’ve yet to find anything that surpasses it. And mousse is so dry. I always find it unsatisfying—like eating air.”

Swirling a strawberry through the fluff, Hermione tried them together. Much better. “This is pretty good. Would you like some chocolate air?”

"No thank you," he said quietly, still watching her. "I'm not hungry.”

Hermione flinched at the rawness in his voice. Holding out her hand, she offered him a token of comfort. She didn’t mean to bring up so many sad memories. He accepted her offering without hesitation, his fingers sliding over hers to stroke her palm.

“It’s my turn to ask you a question,” he said suddenly.

She nodded and curled her fingers around his hand. “Yes?”

“Why did you agree to go out with me tonight . . . and the other night?”

Hermione didn't quite know how to answer that. “Well, if you want the truth, I agreed the other night because I wanted to see what you were like alone, and I wanted to sleep with you again. But tonight I came because your letter made me curious.”

“Curious about what?”

“What all I don’t know about you.”

“Is your curiosity sated?”

“Actually, the night has been far more interesting than I’d hoped. I like talking to you. We share so many common interests, which I really wasn’t expecting. I’ve had a very nice time. Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I told you to call me Lucius.”

She smiled. “Forgive me. Lucius.”

“You know what I realized the other day?” His fingers played along her wrist, tickling her as he talked. “I realized that you’re the only person who has thanked me in . . . well, honestly, I can’t remember the last time.”

That was pretty sad. “I like to thank people when they do something kind.”

He smiled softly. “Like making you climax?

“Yes,” she said with a grin. “Very grateful for that.”

“No one ever thanks me for anything. It’s nice to hear.”

“You deserve it. You worked really hard to make me feel good.”

With a breathy chuckle, Malfoy shook his head. “That was not hard work—that was play. But I meant everything you thank me for, not just the sex. You thanked me for the flowers and for the food. And you aren’t just being polite. You honestly mean it.”

“Of course I mean it. I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Precisely. Most people have some ulterior motive, but you just lay it all on the line. I never knew what a relief it was to talk to someone who actually said what they meant.”

“Is that why you invited me to dinner?”

“Partially.” Lucius used his free hand to pick up his glass. “It was more because . . .” He paused to gather his thoughts and take a sip of champagne. “I’m not sure. You’re not like any other witch I’ve known. You’re . . . warm and . . . intuitive. I know that sounds like a strange compliment, but you pay attention to things; you think about how people feel. I’m not used to that.”

“Severus pays attention to things too. He reads everybody.” 

“Yes,” Lucius murmured, looking off and nodding. “He does. But he keeps it to himself. He uses it for his own benefit. Severus lives in his head; he locks everything up tight unless he sees a reason to release some information.”

“Maybe that’s why you two work so well together. It gives you the physical contact you need, and it gives him a way to escape his brain.”

Lucius stared at her blankly for a few seconds before answering, “That is a strong possibility. What about you and me—why do we work so well together?”

Hermione smiled and stroked his hand. _He thinks we work well together?_ “Before tonight I would have guessed that you just wanted a woman to fill the emptiness your wife left behind. But,” she added hastily when his jaw tensed, “now I think it's a bit more than that. You seem to want a companion who shares your love of life's pleasures. But you also need someone to balance you out. I think you like my honesty and consideration because those qualities are missing in your life.”

“Or maybe I just adore your juicy little pussy.”

Hermione laughed. “Maybe. It is persuasive, isn’t it? But I think you’re kind of like me,” she continued, ignoring his attempt to deflect to sex. “I like your cock and the way you take control in bed, but I’m drawn to this other side of you that enjoys fine food and the arts. You’re a lover of all things sensual. Maybe I need that balance in my life.”

“So you don’t think I’m just materialistic and evil?”

Hermione hadn’t thought of Lucius as evil since she saw him wandering around his house looking like a bedraggled waif after Narcissa’s death. “You’re not evil. You _are_ materialistic, but I think that’s just because you like the security money affords you. Plus you like to provide, don’t you?”

It wasn’t really a question, but he nodded. “When Narcissa was around, I felt useful. I had someone depending on me.”

“You still have Draco.”

“I don’t want Draco depending on me. I want him to be his own man.”

Hermione nodded and traced the lines of his wrist. “And Snape is the last person who’d accept any kind of care, so you’re left in the lurch. Is that it?”

Lucius sighed. “I suppose.”

“But I’m not like Snape. I’m receptive and, as you said, warm. Does that make you feel useful again?”

“Do you always ask such gut-wrenching questions in the middle of dinner?”

Hermione smiled. “You’re right. We can change the subject if you like.”

“I’m not used to talking to anyone like this.”

 _No shit_. “I don't mean to upset you. We can talk about anything.”

He took another deep breath and let it out slowly, as if he were pondering what to say. “I hadn’t really thought about it until you said something, but yes, I do feel useful when you’re around.”

Hermione bit her tongue to keep from grinning. So Lucius was brave after all. That was probably the most vulnerable statement he’d made since Narcissa had been alive. If he was willing to say something so personal, maybe she’d been wrong about what he needed from her. Maybe he needed an emotional outlet like Draco.

"Would you like to stay with me tonight?” he asked softly.

“All night?”

“Yes. I can wake you up in time to go back to your flat in the morning and get ready for work.”

“What if Draco sees us?”

He shook his head, indicating she’d misunderstood. “I don’t mean stay at the Manor; I mean stay here in the hotel. I have a room.”

"Mr. Malfoy,” she said in mock shock, “were you intending to seduce me tonight?”

He quirked one brow at her. “Most certainly; but I was just being pragmatic with the room. I didn’t know if you’d want to stay or not.”

“You really want to spend the night with me?”

He nodded.

“I’d like to stay, but I haven’t brought any pajamas.”

Although his smile was genuine, his voice remained acerbically dry, “Thank God.” 

* * *

 

Merlins Balls! My chapter notes exceeded the limit so I've got to go with an alternate format this time.

Chapter End Notes: Holy crap. This will definitely be my longest chapter notes for the story. I left out some of the well known composers and artists and authors and plays/musicals simply to save time. (I hate it when I read a story with shitloads of references I know nothing about, and I didn't want to do that to my readers.) I've included links if you want to read more or see pictures.  
  
Serenade—A musical performance given to honor or express love for someone, often by one person.--The Free Dictionary  
  
"La Vie en Rose" by Edith Piaf. Written by Edith Piaf (lyrics) and Louiguy and Marguerite Monnot (melody). 1945. The title roughly translates to "Life in rosy hues" or Life through rose-tinted glasses." (Wikipedia) The song was an international hit for Piaf and is still popular to this day, having been covered by a slew of well-known artists and featured in popular movies.  
In 1998 the song was given a Grammy Hall of Fame Award.  
<https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=rzeLynj1GYM>  
  
La Rue de la Magie=The Street of Magic  
  
Dijon Cathedral: <https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dijon_Cathedral>  
  
Musee des Beaux-Arts de Dijon/Palais des ducs et des États de Bourgogne: Musee des Beaux-Arts de Dijon is the Museum of Fine Arts in Dijon. It is housed in the Palace of the Dukes of Burgundy, which is a historical and cultural center in Dijon. <https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mus%C3%A9e_des_Beaux-Arts_de_Dijon>

  
le Jardin botanique de l'Arquebuse: A botanical garden and arboretum in Dijon. (You'll get the best pictures with a google image search.)  
  
L’Hôtel de la Lumière= The hotel of the light  
  
Pâté de foie gras: pate made from the liver of a duck or goose that has been specially fattened.  
  
Coq au vin: Chicken braised with wine lardons (pork fat used for flavor), mushrooms and sometimes garlic.  
  
Camembert: A soft, creamy cheese. First made in Normandy, France.  
  
basil salmon terrine: A terrine is a sort of pate made with coarsely chopped ingredients. Salmon terrine is, obviously, made of salmon but it's usually mixed with cream cheese (or a cream and egg mixture) and something with some more flavor (like basil or lemon).  
  
cassoulet: A rich, slow-cooked casserole originating in the south of France.  
  
Louvre: The most famous art museum in the world. Located in Paris. <http://www.louvre.fr/en>  
  
Musée d’Orsay: “A museum in Paris, France, on the left bank of the Seine. It is housed in the former Gare d'Orsay, a Beaux-Arts railway station built between 1898 and 1900. The museum holds mainly French art dating from 1848 to 1914, including paintings, sculptures, furniture, and photography. It houses the largest collection of impressionist and post-Impressionist masterpieces in the world, by painters including Monet, Manet, Degas, Renoir, Cézanne, Seurat, Sisley, Gauguin, and Van Gogh. Many of these works were held at the Galerie nationale du Jeu de Paume prior to the museum's opening in 1986. It is one of the largest art museums in Europe.” (Wikipedia) <http://www.musee-orsay.fr/en/home.html>  
  
Montmartre: A large historic district  in Paris. The big white church you see in the pictures is The Basilica of Sacré-Cœur, but it's surrounded by nightclubs and shops. The area used to be a big hang out for some famous artists (Dali, Modigliani, Monet, Toulouse-Lutrec, Mondrian, Picasso, Pissarro, Van Gogh). <https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montmartre>

  
The Palais Garnier (and opera library): A symbol of Paris as much as Notre Dame or the Louvre, the Palais Garnier is probably the most opulent opera house in the world. Until the Opera Bastille opened, it was the place to go for Opera in Paris. (The Palais Garnier is the setting for The Phantom of the Opera.) The Opera library is part of the same building and is a library and museum. It used to be managed by the opera, but now it's part of the Music Department of the National Library of France. [Palais_Garnier](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palais_Garnier)  
[Opera Library](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biblioth%C3%A8que-Mus%C3%A9e_de_l%27Op%C3%A9ra_National_de_Paris)  
  
The Opéra Bastille: A modern opera house in Paris and the main facility of the Paris National Opera. <https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Op%C3%A9ra_Bastille>

  
Twyla Tharp: American dancer and choreographer. Known for her crossover pieces (a sort of blending of styles with ballet). Here a video of part of one of her most famous pieces (and it stars Baryshnikov, so you get two examples in one). <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=w_aEbEqpLdc>  
  
The Firebird: <https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Firebird> (Plot summary at the bottom.)  
  
Balanchine: Famous ballet choreographer. Founder of the NYC Ballet. "A major artistic figure of the twentieth century, Balanchine revolutionized the look of classical ballet. Taking classicism as his base, he heightened, quickened, expanded, streamlined, and even inverted the fundamentals of the 400-year-old language of academic dance. This had an inestimable influence on the growth of dance in America. Although at first his style seemed particularly suited to the energy and speed of American dancers, especially those he trained, his ballets are now performed by all the major classical ballet companies throughout the world."--Balanchine.org  
<https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=zoyr458kIvs>  
  
Baryshnikov: Soviet and American dancer. Born in Latvia, her started out dancing in Russia before he defected to Canada in 1974. Later he joined the NYC Ballet to learn Balanchine's style and danced with ABT. (He became a US citizen in '86.) Widely considered one of the best ballet dancers ever.<https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mikhail_Baryshnikov>

  
Cadmus et Hermione: A French opera about Cadmus, king of Thebes, and Hermione, daughter of Venus and Mars. <https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cadmus_et_Hermione>  
  
Don Giovanni: Mozart opera about Don Juan. <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Gp11bweiOA8>  
  
Sweeney Todd: I first saw the Broadway production on PBS in 1989 and immediately fell in love. It's still my favorite musical, and yes, that means it has to be Hermione's too. I enjoy the Burton version (despite the weak singing from the two lead characters), but how could I not love my favorite musical with the irresistible bonus of Alan Rickman as Judge Turpin. (Two obsessions in one—so delicious.)(Although I find it completely unbelievable that Joanna would ever want to leave that house.) For those who have never seen it, Sweeney Todd is about a barber who is falsely sent into exile by an unscrupulous judge who's after the barber's pretty, young wife. Sweeney escapes and comes back for his wife and daughter (who was an infant when he was sent away), but is informed by the woman who's now running a meat pie shop at his old establishment that his wife drank poison and the judge took his daughter—who's now a teenager—and he's got her locked up in his house. While Sweeney hatches a plan of revenge, he takes up barbering again under an assumed name. After killing a traveling barber who recognizes him, the meat pie lady, Mrs. Lovett, suggests grinding up the body for pies (as meat is expensive and she doesn't have the money).  
I won't give way the finer points for those who haven't seen it, but rest assured the story is both gory and heartbreaking. (And funny.)  
If you get the chance to see the version with Angela Lansbury and George Hern (which can be found on DVD), I heartily recommend it.  
  
West End: The theatre district of London.  
  
Musée Picasso: the Picasso museum in Paris. <https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mus%C3%A9e_Picasso>  
  
Ecstasy of Saint Teresa--Sculpture by Bernini. Quite a few of Bernini's sculptures have a decidedly sexual flavor to them. Of course what he intended is up for debate, and many people will claim it's simply religious ecstasy that leaves some of his subjects looking so orgasmic. (I won't go into my views on all orgasms being spiritual at this point. I'll just leave it up to you judge for yourself.)  <https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ecstasy_of_Saint_Teresa>  
<https://www.romaexperience.com/rome-blog/2013/5/24/the-spiritual-orgasm-of-saint-teresa>  
(You'll find better close ups if you do a google image search.)  
  
Blessed Ludovica Albertoni--Another of Bernini's sculptures. <https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blessed_Ludovica_Albertoni>


	22. Modulation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My attempts to get this chapter out faster than usual were completely unsuccessful. I’ve been really tired lately and my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders. Hopefully there will be some chapters soon that I don’t have to rewrite, and I’ll be able to get ahead. (My notes tell me such chapters are soon approaching, but I don’t trust my previous interpretations about what’s “fine” since I’ve had to overhaul every single chapter from the start.) Hope you all are having a good Easter/spring break, and as always, I greatly appreciate all the reviews and kudos. Happy Reading :)

22—Modulation

“I want to lay you down in a bed of roses.”—Bon Jovi 

(Lucius) 

The elevator was paneled in dark wood, lit only by the glowing gold ceiling above their heads. Their lift-mates were a laughing bunch, two young couples—even younger than Granger. Lucius felt old despite the surreptitious glances from the female passengers. Age hadn’t dulled his appeal, but he no longer found the attention gratifying. There had been a time when he and Narcissa had engaged in a friendly duel of desirability when they went out for a night on the town. Whoever drew the most side-long glances was declared the winner—same sex stares were worth bonus points. It turned Lucius on to see men lusting after his wife, those sad saps just wishing they could get a taste of such beauty. Afterward, he'd be so pent up he could barely keep his hands off her, the need to prove how much he adored her too great to resist.

But now he just wanted to get Granger up to the room where it was quiet and they could be alone. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, ignoring the eyeballing from the looky-loos. It wasn’t clear if the steep age difference was the cause of their staring or if these strangers were thinking something less kind. They _were_ an odd pair, and he could see why someone might think they didn’t belong together: he was handsome and polished, his wardrobe tailor-made, not a hair out of place; Granger was more bohemian librarian, her hair a bit wild even when pulled back, her dress robes flattering but inexpensive, and she projected a baffling aura of prissy fussiness mixed with animalistic sensuality, as if there was a sexual beast just lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

And while she was pretty witch, he wouldn’t describe her as striking. She didn’t have Narcissa’s cool elegance or smooth grace. But for some reason, Lucius could swear Hermione was a little more lovely each time he saw her. Perhaps good sex brought out her inner light. She had an untamed allure about her, tempestuous and primal. He didn’t want to tame her though . . . he wanted to feel her claws in his back. An icy finger of adrenaline ran up the underside of his balls, freezing him in place for several delicious moments.

The lift stopped at the twentieth floor, and their tipsy companions departed, leaving the air silent and still. As soon as the doors slid closed, he turned to her, his body hungry for her warmth. Their dinner conversation had left him feeling strangely light, but also unbalanced. Disoriented. It was difficult for him to discuss anything of a personal nature, and he found her ability to see through his carefully constructed facade disconcerting. He was grateful for her unyielding empathy, but that didn’t make confessing any easier. He needed to buffer the sharp edges she’d uncovered during dinner with the solid assurance of her touch, the soothing relief of her body wrapping around his.

But first . . . a kiss.

Hermione would be the only woman he’d kissed since Narcissa. Although Severus provided the sexual snogging Lucius needed to stay sane, lip-locking with the Potions master in the heat of the moment didn’t compare to the soft give and take of a receptive witch. He hoped Narcissa would approve of his decision. Her deathbed demand that he move on after she was gone eased his mind somewhat, but he was still hesitant to leave behind all those years of commitment and adoration. It wasn’t that he felt as if he was cheating on his wife, it was more that he was saddened by the thought of closing the book on such a huge part of his life.

But if he was blunt with himself, wallowing in his own loneliness wasn’t doing him any favors. The aching in his gut wasn’t all mourning. Some of it was longing. Longing to begin again. For something meaningful. He missed sharing life’s ups and downs with someone who understood him.

And Hermione, despite her condemnation of his past, did seem to understand him. There was something special between them, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Even if they weren’t such an explosive match in bed, which they were, he’d still be interested in spending time with her: sharing an evening at the theatre, taking her out dancing, touring the local galleries. She was a beguiling girl.

But denying the physical chemistry they shared would be a slap in face of sensuality. Just the touch of her hand set his loins on fire. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to possess her body in the most intimate ways imaginable . . . and that succulent mouth was the gateway to her soul.

He’d been contemplating the magic of her lips since the first night in the library; they were soft and strong—much like the woman in question. And the most provoking words came from that perfect mouth, words that could hurt and heal all in the same breath. He was both terrified and desperate to hear her speak again. She might condemn his callousness, but garnering her praise was just as likely. Such risk, but such high rewards.

Placing his fingers on the petal soft skin of her cheek, he turned her face up to his and looked into her eyes. It was like being lost in the woods—deep hints of dappled light flecked the oak and rosewood forest of her irises, sun-flecked shards of glimmering gold flashing from the bottomless brown depths, hypnotizing him with possibility.

She didn’t flinch or pull away, and when he leaned closer, his nose brushing hers, her lips parted ever so slightly, and the diameter of her pupils doubled in size. That was an invitation if ever he saw one. Touching his mouth to hers, Lucius sank into the downy welcome of her upper lip, mapping its hills and dales with testing kisses. Her hand found his chest, and she snagged the front of his robes to pull him closer. Lucius smiled and moved down to her lower lip, taking his time and sampling its juicy bounty.

The softest of sighs ghosted over his mouth, and Lucius slid his fingers into the wispy hair at the nape of her neck. When her head was cradled in his hands, she moaned and, with no warning, swiped her tongue along the seam of his lips as if she were delicately licking an envelope. Growling low in his throat, Lucius countered her brazen teasing by sneaking inside and seeking out that devilish little instigator.

Granger whimpered and gripped his robes tighter, her body melting against his. Lucius had to concur. His mind was blown, drunk on the mesmeric swirl of her tongue; and his body had gone completely haywire, unable to decide between teeth-chattering chills of excitement or the stomach-flipping heat of contentment. 

The door dinged and slid open, startling them from their snogging. Lucius pulled back, and her dilated eyes met his with such a scorching intensity that his heart stopped for a second before restarting at a frantic sprint. Cupping the side of her face, he caught his breath and kissed her forehead.  “I have so much in store for you tonight. Is my cum queen ready to rule?”

Her exhale rattled loose, and he felt its stuttery draught skim his chin and slip down his collar. “Yes, sir.”

He smirked. She’d forgotten to call him Lucius again, but he liked this sexually dazed side of her that was hungry for ravishment. “Then let’s get you out of those pretty robes. I’ve been imagining you naked all night.”

“That’s fair . . . considering I’ve been imagining your face between my thighs since I saw you on my doorstep.”

Lucius chuckled and took her hand, escorting her from the lift. “A woman after my own heart. I hope you like the room. I didn’t know if you’d ever been to Paris before, and I wanted you to have a good view.”

They walked to the end of the hall, and Lucius pulled out the key he’d gotten from Alphonse. The brass had only one tooth, but that was just for show; the locks didn’t function with tumblers. The key knew the password to break the wards and would only whisper it to the door when inserted in the lock. Lucius wondered if Granger’s pussy worked with similar magic. Would the correct whispered phrase open the vaginal floodgates?

Turning the knob, he opened the door and ushered her inside. The room had been prepared per his instructions, and a multitude of candles made the walls flicker and glow with dancing light.

Hermione froze when she saw the floor-to-ceiling windows, their reflective surface doubling the size of the room and bombarding her with both the grandeur of the accommodations and the vast expanse of the city. Moving into the center of the floor, she spun in a slow circle, taking in the surroundings with stark wonder. “Lucius, this is . . .”

Lavish. Staging has always been one of his greatest strengths, and he intended to make a good impression. The bed was huge. Not as big as his bed at home, but it was more than enough. Red rose petals had been strewn over the plush white comforter, and they stood out in sharp contrast, like crimson leaves on new-fallen snow.

Lucius slipped off his robes and laid them across the plush armchair to his right then slowly approached her, smiling slyly as he began to unbutton his waistcoat. When he was directly in front of her, he snaked one hand around to her lower back and pulled her against his body. “A room fit for a queen.”

“This is beautiful, Lucius. Did you have all this set up?”

He nodded and caressed the curve of her waist. “Of course.”

“Lucius, you didn’t have to do all this,” she said, absently gesturing with one hand, but not taking her eyes off his. “I don’t need suites and rose petals—I was ready to shag you in the lift.”

He laughed and bent down to touch his lips to hers. “I don’t shag in lifts. The setting must measure up to my exacting specifications. And I know you don’t _need_ this, but . . . I prefer to surround myself with beauty. It’s the same reason I don't eat off paper plates. Presentation makes for more pleasure.”

Her hand ran up the front of his dress shirt, and she traced one button with the edge of her nail. “I see what you mean.”

Spanning both hands over her lower back, he drew her hips to his, making sure she felt the stiff weight of his growing arousal. “Tell me what you want tonight,” he whispered. “What has my naughty little masturbating spy been thinking about this week?”

Her cheeks pinked, and she panted against his lips, her breath warm and sweet like chocolate covered oranges. “I’ve been thinking about how you fucked me on the patio.”

“Have you?” he purred with a grin. “What excited you most?”

While she debated her answer, he started on dessert. Nudging her head to the side, he nuzzled his nose along the side of her cheek, inhaling her scent as he traversed the line of her jaw. She smelled vaguely of brown sugar, and his mouth began to water as if he were starving. His tongue flickered out, circling her earring and then dipping down to the sultry stretch of her neck.

“Um . . . I guess . . . the way you fucked me against the wall . . . and being—ah!—outside.”

Each word buzzed against his lips, and that nip had earned him a knee-quaking shudder. “Even though we were alone, you thought you might be seen out there, didn’t you?” 

Clutching his shoulder, she whimpered. “Yes.”

Lucius knew exactly what that meant. “Then I think it’s time for you to go look out the window.”

“What?” she asked, completely baffled. “Look at what out the window?”

“I assume the city,” he replied and, grabbing her by the hips, spun her around for a little sightseeing. When he had her standing before the plate glass window, Lucius wrapped one arm around her waist and studied the twinkling lights over her shoulder. “Lovely, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Her hand slithered back between them in search of his crotch.

Catching her by the wrist, he gently wrestled her hand away from his trousers and pinned it to her front. His mouth brushed the edge of her ear, and he kissed the soft skin of her temple. “I know what would make the view even lovelier.”

She moaned and leaned into him, her bum grinding along his length. _Soon, little princess. All in good time._ With one hand, he unzipped her robes and drew down the top until it fell to the floor. He watched in the window as her mouth fell open in a silent gasp. She was the epitome of passion; the anticipation smoldered in her eyes like lit coals. As lightly as possible, Lucius trailed his fingers over her naked stomach and ventured south to the brunette V between her legs. She’d forgone knickers yet again, and while he applauded the easy access, he missed the fun of panty removal.

He’d rectify that in the future.

“Now the whole city can see how lovely you are,” he whispered in her ear. “Step closer to the window and spread your legs.”

“What if someone sees?”

“Then they’ll send you fan mail. Feet apart.”

She stepped out of her dress, and Lucius knelt down to pick it up for her, tossing it into the chair with his own robes. With a breezy twist, their clothing settled together, interlocked, foreshadowing what was to come.

His hand followed the curve of her hip as he rose, and when he reached her waist, he detoured around to the front to finger the breadth of her rib cage . . . tickling the groove that divided torso from breast. His other hand traveled the line of her spine, slipping beneath the catch of her bra. He had it open quickly, no magic required, and with his other hand, he drew it low, until the straps tumbled down her arms.

She let him pull it off, and he got a glimpse of her pert nipples speckled in the twinkling lights of Paris; but before he had time to really appreciate the spectacular lighting effects, she covered her chest with one arm as if she were embarrassed.

Oh, he couldn’t have that.

“Hands on the window,” he rumbled. “Keep them there.”

There was only a slight hesitation, but then she flattened her palms to the glass as if begging him to frisk her. Lucius bit his lips to keep from laughing, but his wayward libido insisted he pat her down for contraband. A cavity search might be required. Perhaps later. His lips had other ideas. As he mouthed the slope of her neck, his eyes slid to their reflection, which provided the most tantalizing portrait: her heaving chest, the suggestive arch of her back, those blasted black silk stockings.

Stifling his grunt of appreciation, he pulled away, reluctantly releasing her body.

She whimpered at the departure, but when she saw him unbuttoning his shirt in the window’s reflection, she went silent, her posture perking like a kitten who’d just spotted a mouse. Her eyes darted up and down, unable to decide which was more interesting, his face or hands. When he went for his belt, she whipped her head around to get a proper look over her shoulder.

“Uh, uh,” he chided. “No peeking. Eyes on the city.”

Hermione smiled and turned back to the window, not seeing the city at all. Lucius removed his waistcoat and shirt then sat down to take off his shoes and socks. He watched her from the corner of his eye. She was getting anxious, her hips rolling in anticipation, her pussy blindly searching for release. _Just give me a second, love. I’ve got what you need right here._ When he stood and began to unzip his trousers, her hips stilled—her focus keen. She was only getting glimpses in the low light of the candles, but she stared with the intensity of a stalker.

Malfoy stepped out of his trousers and casually took his place behind her, skimming his fingers over her naked buttocks. She pushed out her arse and met his eyes in the window’. 

“Are you wet for me, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.

“Let’s show Paris just how much.” He smoothed both palms down her flanks then, on the way up, dipped around to her curly thicket and carded his fingers through her fur until he was cupping her mound. Her hips thrust forward, trying to force the contact, and his middle finger grazed her slit. She wasn’t lying. She was wetter than the Medici Fountain. Using two slick fingers, Lucius spread her open. “Look at that sparkle.”

Hermione whimpered and writhed, no more articulate than a mime—yet her body made her desires perfectly clear.

“You must really love duck,” he teased, running his middle finger along her shining seam. “Or do you love showing the entire city how wet I can make you?”

“The duck _was_ pretty good,” she muttered cheekily.

Lucius chuckled and nipped the back of her neck. So she wanted to play. Well . . . let the games begin. “Is that window cold?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. You’re getting overheated.” Using the weight of his body, he pressed her to the glass, and she gasped at the sudden temperature change. His finger continued to circle her clit, but it had become less teasing and more predatory.

“Isn’t that better?” he crooned. His forearm was pinned in front of her, but he found the cold bracing rather than shocking. The rest of her was still as hot as a bubbling cauldron, and he snuggled his semi-erect prick between her warm cheeks. “Are those nipples nice and hard? I didn’t get any dessert, and I’m ever so hungry.”

“Yes, sir!”

He grinned and increased the pressure of his fingertip. Her nub was stiff and distended, ready to explode. “I like this look on you. Stockings and heels. You should have just worn this to dinner. The service would have been record-breaking.”

She sputtered out a laugh. “I think Henri would have preferred to see _you_ in the buff.”

“Possibly. But I know Paris prefers your dripping cunt over my throbbing cock. Let’s see if it’s ready for the spotlight yet.”

One finger slipped inside, and she shuddered in his arms, her groan echoing off the glass, “Mmm-m-m!”

“Yes, you _are_ ready. Listen to that. It sounds as if you’re dying for the show to begin. Is this what you need?” He ground his erection into her rump.

“Yes, sir,” she whined, and her hand smacked the glass in a fit of frustration.

“Beg me. I need to make sure you really want it.”

“Oh gods,” she muttered, obviously unprepared to take over the dirty talk. “Um . . . please . . . give me your cock, sir. I need it so much. Please fuck me.”

“That’s it. My dirty little Gryffindor. You love being bad, don’t you?”

It wasn’t really a question, but she answered quickly, “I like being dirty for you, sir, but I don’t like being bad.”

He managed to stifle his snort just in time. The consummate good girl couldn’t bear to be bad. “I understand. In that case, are you ready to be my sweet little princess?”

Her breathing became erratic, steaming the window with each exhalation. “Yes, sir!”

Ah! He’d discovered at least one key to unlock her cunny combination. And he hadn’t even been trying—what luck. “Up on your tiptoes,” he purred, bending his knees to get a better angle. “Arch your back; show me that pussy.”

She complied immediately, and Lucius used two fingers to find the silky hollow of her entrance. Grabbing his dick, he followed his guiding fingers and slipped in the tip. The angle was odd due to her height, but his knob was perfectly positioned to pound her g-spot. Arching her back, she opened herself to him, and he slid in, smooth as butter. Firmly aligned with the track of her channel, he drew his wet fingers out of the way and, as he departed, trailed along the shadowed valley bisecting her bum.

Her entire body convulsed. “Oh gods!”

Well, wasn’t that interesting? He did it again, lingering on her twitching rosebud, watching her reaction closely. Her spine contorted as if she were auditioning for the sexual circus, and her thighs began to quiver.

A slow smile spread across his face. “Is that what you like?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

Lucius continued to gently fuck her as he traced the crinoline pleats of her pucker with one finger. “Is this how you touch yourself when you’re alone?”

“Yes, sir.” She sounded braver now.

“Have you had your naughty little fingers in here?”

“Yes, sir.”

 _Bloody hell_. They’d found a keeper. Snape was going to flip when he found out. Putting a modicum of pressure right at the center of her swirl, he asked in his silkiest drawl, “Would you like me to do the honors tonight?”

“Fuck! Yes, sir. Please. I’m gonna come.”

“Yes, I can tell,” he commented blithely. Lucius brought his middle finger to his lips and lubed it thoroughly in his mouth then smeared it across her anal opening. As he wiggled the digit into her arse, his cock twitched with envy; that eager ring of muscle gave new meaning to the phrase “vice-like.”

She relaxed, and his finger disappeared to the knuckle. The steady in and out of his thrusting could be felt through the thin wall, and he teased himself for a moment, catching the crest of his glans for a little extra friction. When he went a fraction of an inch deeper, she shouted and began to treble so violently he was afraid she was going to collapse.

“Oh God, Lucius! I’m gonna come . . . right now.”

True to her word, her passages seized, her internal muscles grasping at both digit and dick. Satin liquid poured from her folds in a frenzied stream, and he groaned as his balls and thighs were spattered with the overflow.

“Ahhhhhhhhh!” Her hands scrabbled at the glass, searching for purchase as she spasmed with pleasure. “Ah! Uhhhh.”

Her pussy was still contracting, but her body unclenched as she tumbled into orgasmic free fall.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered into her hair. “Come for me.”

She gradually went slack, panting and shivering with aftershocks, and Lucius took his time extracting his finger and cock. There was an audible slurp of sticky suction as they disconnected, which left him smirking with glee. He spun her around by the hips and stared into her eyes. It looked as if she’d been shagged into a stupor. “Did you enjoy that?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. Thank you, sir.”

Lucius chuckled at her blissful gratitude and kissed her sweaty forehead. “Are you ready for more?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sex dazed and raring for another round. What a witch. Lucius bent down and grabbed her arse, lifting her up and leaning her back against the window. She didn’t squeal, but she hissed and bridged off the glass, her legs tightening around his hips like Devils’ Snare. Lucius didn’t pull her away; the glass would cool her fevered body—she just needed time to adjust.

His cock slid right back inside as if they’d never parted, and the squishing recommenced. With a low moan, she rolled her head back and forth against the glass, her big brown eyes slitting to a half-lidded haze. Lucius couldn’t look away. She was bloody breathtaking. Her gaze drifted in and out of focus, sleepy with satisfaction, and the pink flush of her cheeks had spread all the way down her chest, painting her décolletage with a rosy glow.

He couldn’t decide if she was a portrait of debauchery or virtue. Although she was a playful little nymph who didn’t mind getting messy, there was something about her in the throes of passion that screamed purity. _What a confounding observation to make a time like this_. What was even more confounding was that he didn’t know which side of her he liked better, the naughty nymphette, or the wholesome humanitarian. Thank the Fates she was plenty of both.

Her back sank against the glass again, and she sighed in relief. _Knew that would calm you down._

Quick as a flash, she leaned forward and captured his mouth with hers, her tongue plunging past his lips. Lucius inhaled sharply, almost losing the beat of his hips, but when he had gathered his wits, he gave it right back to her, repaying fervor with fervor. It was more a dance than a duel, and his body easily fell into step with her rhythm.

Her moan tickled his lips, echoing off the roof of his mouth and buzzing over tongue and tooth. He kept the same pace with his pelvis, but his hips snapped at the top to punctuate his thrusts with an exclamation mark. That frantic little muscle swirling through his mouth mirrored every move; she was penetrating him as he penetrated her. He didn’t mind the initiative—a man only had so much concentration on tap when buried balls deep in a juicy quim. Best to let her lead the oral rumba while he took care of the tango below.

Swinging her away from the window, he carried her over to the bed, still joined at the lips. The experience was so different from what he was used to he wasn’t ready to break the connection just yet. Severus, despite his caustic personality, was an oral genius, his kissing as skilled and calculated as his brewing. But he wasn’t a woman. He didn’t have Hermione’s abandon and receptivity. Snape plotted, Hermione consumed. She was all sweetness and fire—like scalded caramel.

Slowly, he laid her down in the petals, and she pulled back to look at him as they got settled.

“I’ve never had sex on rose petals,” she confessed with a small smile.

“Nice, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “It’s kind of weird, but I like it.”

Lucius knew what she meant. It tickled, as if something was accidentally touching you. But that just added to the wealth of sensations for the body to enjoy. “You look gorgeous like this.”

Hermione blushed. “So do you.”

Chuckling, he nuzzled her cheek. “And here I was beginning to think I didn’t need to hear that anymore. You’re very sweet.”

With a kiss to her brow, he withdrew until his glans just popped past her opening then he eased back in as if it were the first time. She made a garbled noise of pleasure and breathed deeply through her nose as if she could smell the approaching climax.

“I think it’s time for you to come again,” he murmured.

“I just came.”

“Is there a limit of which I’m unaware?”

She laughed. “No. I just need a little rest in between.”

“I beg to differ.”

He slapped his hips against her, and she keened loudly, bridging off the bed like a live wire.

“If I know one thing, it’s pussy, and yours is constantly at the starting gates ready to run.”

“Oh gods!”

“You’ve been underestimating this marvelous little cunt,” he grunted. Her walls were already starting to flutter. “She’s just been waiting to be set free.”

“Please, Lucius!”

He grinned. That please went straight to his balls. He heard it so seldom. “Tell me what you want, princess.”

“Kiss me again.”

He’d been expecting a request for harder or faster, but he adored her suggestion. Touching his lips to hers, he whispered, “You’re going to sleep in my seed tonight, princess. Tell me who rules this pussy now.”

“You, Lucius. Dammit! Please let me come!”

He sealed his mouth to hers and fucked her deep and fast, catching her cries on his tongue and feeding them back to her with a helping of his own heated grunts. Her sheath contracted once more, and he concentrated on pushing himself over with her. After running from the edge all night, it wasn't that difficult to just jump over the cliff.

His balls pulled taut, and he growled as the semen shot through his shaft. The pleasure throbbed in his veins, and he shouted once as the eruption hit. _Fuck!_ He pumped all he had into her, grunting as the tingling in his balls spread throughout his body. It was as if she had zapped his sac with her magical pussy, and the residual charm needed to exit through every pore in his skin.

Although the pulsing eventually waned, the heady buzz continued. He pulled his lips from hers and stared into her eyes. _Definitely scalded caramel._

“That was brilliant,” she breathed.

“I think I can go again in a bit. Would you like to get in the hot tub while we wait?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want you to wash away that cream. It’s mine now.”

Lucius smirked. “Spoken like a true cum queen. Very well. We’ll pick petals off each other until I’m recovered.”

Hermione smiled. “I’m really glad I came here with you, Lucius.”

His heart hammered, driven mad by the kindness in her eyes. He’d forgotten what it was like to be targeted by such warmth. _Damn. I could get used to this_. “I’m glad too. More than you can imagine.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modulation--To shift to another key; variation in the strength tone or pitch of one's voice.
> 
> "Bed of Roses" by Bon Jovi. Recorded in 1992. Written by Jon Bon Jovi. <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=NvR60Wg9R7Q>  
> (I’m too tired to do notes after the last chapter. Bleh.)


	23. Conductor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize for the protracted wait. To all of you who aren't friends with me on FB, I finally cracked under the strain of a series of physical and mental stressors. To say I'd lost my writing mojo would have been a vast understatement. I was dreading every new chapter. My already rampant anxiety was pushed to new heights by the added pressure of getting my chapters out on time. I had to take a step back and ask myself if meeting my self-imposed deadline was worth all the panic and turmoil.  
> I decided it wasn't. I love writing, but chaining myself to a constant, never-ending deadline sucked the life out of me.  
> After a four day break, I finally got back to a place where I looked forward to writing every day. (And I had my work cut out for me, because this chapter was a monster.) For the sake of my own sanity, I no longer intend to follow any set schedule for releasing these chapters. That's not say I won't get them up quickly (speed is largely dependent on word count and how much rewriting is required). I just can't say for sure when they'll be done anymore. For all I know this could make me faster (but don't hold me to that). If I think a chapter is going to take me more than four or five days, I'll try to give you a heads up in the notes. (Assuming I check ahead to see what's coming.)  
> Okay, I'll stop rambling now, and let you read. I just wanted to keep everyone abreast of my tentative plans.  
> So, without further ado, something for the Snamione fans . . .

23—Conductor

“What are you waiting for? It must be me—to take you over my knee and spank you mercilessly. I can do that. Oh, you’ll see.”—Matt Sweeney and Bonnie “Prince” Billy.

(Severus)

Severus did a quick survey of the neighborhood before rapping his knuckles against her front door. No one had followed him and there were no Muggles around to question his eccentric wardrobe. He could have forgone the frock coat, but the last time he’d seen her, he’d noticed how her gaze lingered over the line of buttons marching down his body. It would be wise to take advantage of even the smallest proclivity; he suspected Draco and Lucius had both been wooing her since they’d last met, and he’d need a whole deck of aces up his sleeve if he wanted to compete with those two.

Although . . . their last “date” had been conspicuously free from any refinement or fanfare, and since _she’d_ contacted _him_ for another rendezvous, she clearly didn't mind a less conventional approach. 

Her owl had accosted him with a letter as he navigated the bowels of  Saturday’s seventh-circle of hell (i.e. chaperoning in Hogsmeade). She insisted she missed talking to him, and made it known that she had the newest issue of _Potion-Maker’s Monthly_ if he wanted to come over and discuss it. 

Despite her allusion to the aforementioned periodical, he suspected that she actually wanted to talk about the book he’d given her. She was an honest and fairly blunt witch, but she was also polite and likely still embarrassed about the sex. There were several legitimate reasons she might have been reluctant to just come right out and declare her true intentions.

Whether she’d invited him over for a talk or a test drive, Severus had come prepared. If her motives were as academic as advertised, he was ready to converse; but he'd also taken a shower and put on his best frock coat and trousers in the event that her innocent invitation turned out to be a booty call.

While he despised that plebeian phrase, he wasn’t against the underlying concept. It had been a trying week, and he’d yet to let loose with Lucius. He usually abstained until their “get togethers,” but abstention was completely out of the question with a naked Granger frolicking about in his brain.

It didn’t help that ever since the Shrieking Shack, that frolicking now included phials of Tentacula venom and mountains of research papers. Imaginary Hermione flitted about his lab while he brewed, sticking her nose into every available beaker and bouncing about with her hand in the air, asking question after jiggly question. The scientific method had never been so scintillating.

Just as he was picturing her bending over his desk to study his notes, the object of his renewed lust opened the door and flashed him a welcoming smile. Severus glanced over his shoulder to see if someone else had arrived behind him.

“Professor! You’re here. Right on time; I just made tea.” She waved him through the door. “Come in and shut the door; the wind’s screaming like a banshee out there.”

He stepped inside and followed her to the kitchen, checking out her bum as she bounded ahead in her impossibly tight jeans. Was this how she always dressed on the weekend, or was she trying to drive him mad? The body-hugging top she’d chosen for the evening left little to the imagination. Her light blue bra peeked out from behind the lavender spaghetti straps of her camisole.

Snape was annoyed that he knew what the hell spaghetti straps were; that information was taking up valuable real estate in his brain. Spending day in and day out surrounded by squealing teenage girls had left him with an abundant knowledge of all things asinine. Any man who was aroused by underage witches had never had to listen to their prattle for more than five minutes. Nubile bodies were far less tempting when one had to endure the moronic drivel spewing from their empty heads. Merciful Merlin! What a relief to be in the presence of another human being who knew the twelve uses of dragon’s blood and who could say _stirring rod_ without giggling. 

This was a woman. A woman with a real mind hiding underneath all that bushy hair. A woman who loved books and brain teasers.

A woman with nipple nibblets poking through her thin top, exposing acres of bare skin for his pervy pleasure.

_Stop it, Severus! You’re getting distracted again._

_Damn spaghetti straps._

He sat down at her small kitchen table and waited quietly for her to bring the tea. She carried over two teensy cups and set one before him. Snape looked down at his and derisively cocked one eyebrow. “What the hell is this?”

“Tea,” she said defensively.

He picked up the cup by the delicate looping handle. “I’ve had shot glasses bigger than this.”

“It’s the only tea set I have. My grandmother gave it to me.”

“When you were five?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No, Mr. Comedy, she left it to me in her will.”

He sipped it. Earl Grey. Excellent choice. “Honey?”

Hermione did a double take, her expression pale with shock. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do . . . you have . . . any honey?” he explained slowly.

She blushed and looked away. “Oh. Um . . . yes, of course.”

Severus almost burst into laughter when he realized what she thought he’d meant. But he was somewhat reassured by her flustered response; she was nervous about having him over, which meant he probably wasn’t the only one who’d been reliving their last shag every morning in the shower. Granger dashed to the cupboard and came back with a small amber jar. She set it on the table and handed him a spoon.

“So how has your week been?” she asked as she sat across from him.

That caught him off guard. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had asked. “Tedious.”

Hermione grinned. “I guess that’s an improvement over torturous.”

He carefully stirred his toy tea. “Barely. Although I suppose any week with no explosions should be considered successful.”

“Explosions keep you on your toes. I think you’d be bored out of your mind if there wasn’t a little excitement to liven up your days.”

“If I never see another explosion again, it will be too soon. I prefer my excitement not come from scorched scarabs and melting metal.”

“What do you do for fun then?”

“Fun? I don’t do fun.”

“Really? You haven’t had any fun with me?”

His lips twitched. “I don’t know if I’d call that fun.”

“What would you call it then?”

He sipped his tea, thinking. “Delightful distraction.”

Hermione smiled. “I hate to break it to you, but that’s fun.”

“What about you?” he countered. “What kind of trouble have you been getting into this week?”

She blushed and looked down at her saucer.

_Oh, that’s not suspicious at all._

Lifting her cup, she hid her smile with a sip. “Not much.”

“Don’t give me that. If Lucius hasn’t invited you over for another _dinner_ , I’ll swallow this teacup.”

“I saw him Tuesday night.”

Well, Lucius certainly wasn’t wasting any time. “And did he wine and dine you?”

Her face flamed brighter. “Yes.”

“Why are you turning so many colors? What on earth did he do to you?”

“Nothing rude. He was . . . hmmm. He’s very different when he’s alone.”

Severus nodded. “Yes, he is. Might I bother you for another thimbleful of tea? Mine seems to have evaporated.”

Hermione laughed and got the teapot. “There’s plenty,” she said, pouring him more.

“So Lucius let down his guard a little. You must have made quite an impression.”

“I’m really not sure what brought it on, but I can see why you like to be with him. He’s interesting. And complicated.”

Snape smirked. “Lucius _is_ interesting, but he isn’t complicated. What did he serve you this time, caviar? Smoked salmon? Or did he just cut to the chase and dip you in a giant vat of honey?”

Hermione smiled softly and traced the edge of her saucer with one finger. “He took me to Paris.”

Severus blinked. “He took you to Paris? On a Tuesday night?”

“Yes.”

 _And he didn’t tell me_. Something had happened, something Lucius wanted to keep to himself. “How was it?”

“Beautiful.”

“Where did he take you?”

“The wizarding district—to L’Hôtel de la Lumière.”

 _Lucius, you sneaky devil._ “Did he take you to his room there?”

She nodded.

“Did you stay the night?”

Hermione nodded again and sipped her tea to disguise her embarrassment.

Lucius had jumped in with both feet. He really meant to keep her around for a while. Severus had mixed feelings about that. He was happy Lucius was finally seeking out the gentle influence of a woman, just as he himself was happy to have the same opportunity; but the situation just screamed conflict and misunderstanding. There were too many people involved for a relaxed liaison. One person in particular might take offense with her leniency. “What about Draco? Have you seen him?”

Her face reddened to a deep shade of crimson. “He came over last weekend.”

So she hadn’t left Draco for Lucius; she was keeping things open. Severus had been deliberating over the Draco situation all week. Part of him worried he was stealing the attention of his godson’s favored witch, but his less altruistic side argued that it should be Hermione’s decision. He knew that was just his brain and balls having their say; they didn’t want to give up the mental and physical pleasure of her company. But Severus was prepared to step down if Draco specifically asked him. It would be a depressing loss, but disappointment was an old friend. He’d adjust when the time came. “Does he know you went out with his father?”

She looked down. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Did you sleep with Draco too?”

Remaining silent, her eyes studied the chipped edge of the Formica table.

“I’m not implying anything,” he explained smoothly. “I’m hardly one to judge. It’s not as if I haven’t been a willing passenger on the Malfoy Express all these years. I’m just curious how you plan to juggle them both.”

She sighed deeply, and when she met his eyes, he could see the internal struggle reflected in her troubled gaze. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” she said, almost whispering. “I’ve never been in a situation like this before. At first I thought I was just catching up on all the sex I’d missed out on over the years. I thought Mr. Malfoy was just . . . a fling, but now . . .”

“Now . . . ?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but . . . I actually like him. We have a lot in common, and I honestly don’t know which one of you I like spending time with most.”

Which one of you. He wasn’t out of the running. She considered him a serious contender. “I can see how all this could be difficult for you. But no one’s asking you to decide anything right now.” Unsure if that was true, he studied her expression. “ _Are_ they?”

She shook her head.

“Well then, if you’re enjoying yourself, perhaps that should suffice. For the time being.”

“You don’t think I’m being a massive whore who’s just using the three of you?”

Biting his cheek to keep from snorting, Severus shook his head. “Hardly. You’re just . . . curious. And I dare say with your work schedule, you could use the extra . . . _tension relief_.”

“What do you know about my work schedule?” she asked, squinting at him accusingly, as if he’d been spying on her.

He waved off her suspicions. “Draco told me how you race around the Ministry day after day. He said you’re possessed, sometimes slaving over paperwork all through lunch.”

She gave him a guilty look that confirmed Draco hadn’t been elaborating.

“Mm-hm,” Severus hummed knowingly. “Still pushing yourself to the breaking point, just as you did at school.”

Hermione chewed on her lower lip, apparently thinking over his assessment.

“So what did you do with Draco?” Severus asked nonchalantly. “I take it he didn’t whisk you off to Paris?”

Her face glowed, flaming with discomfort. “Uh . . . I’d rather not say.”

“Ah. So the book came in handy?” he surmised with a smirk.

“It’s been . . . inspirational. My fantasy life has spiraled in a new direction.”

Severus snickered into his teacup. “Have you picked your favorite parts then?”

"I think I've memorized them.”

He was glad he hadn’t been drinking just then; the table would have been sprayed with Earl Grey. “Which chapter is getting the most attention?”

She glanced up, gnawing on her lip for courage. “Domination and Submission.”

He could have guessed that. “Do you have any questions?” It looked as if she wanted to talk about it.

“How much of the stuff in that book have you done?”

Snape shrugged. “Most of it.”

“FemDom?”

Bloody hell, she was going straight for the jugular, wasn't she? “It’s been a long time, but I’ve tried it. I’m not really the submissive type.”

“How about plushies?”

Severus laughed softly. “You got me there. I’ve never been turned on by the idea enough to go to the trouble.”

“What about the stuff in the S&M section, how much of that have you done?”

“All of it.”

“Do you like it?”

“I’m not turned on by causing pain, but I like the domination aspect. If the witch is aroused by it, I’m aroused by it for the most part.”

“What about adult babies, have you done that?”

Snape's brow rose in interest. She’d broken eye contact when she asked, as if her flaming cheeks weren’t revealing enough. “I’ve never known anyone who wanted to try it, but I’m not against the idea.” If he was going to get her to admit what she wanted to explore, he’d better make sure she thought he was open to everything.

“I’m a bit scared by the more violent chapters, but I like all the submissive stuff.”

“Would you like to show me your favorite parts?”

She flashed him an unsure smile. “You know we’ll never get around to _Potion-Maker’s Monthly_ if you get me started on that book.”

He nodded. “We can resume our academic interests later. There's plenty of time. Perhaps we should turn our attention to the _physical sciences._

__

She swallowed hard and glanced toward the door. “The book is in the front room. Are you done with your tea?”

__

He tipped it back and swallowed the last few drops. “Yes. Return these cups to the dollhouse from whence they came.”

__

Hermione breathed out a nervous but relieved laugh. “I’ll get them later.”

__

_In a hurry, Miss Granger?_

__

Hermione popped up and led him back to the front room, where she bent over the coffee table, digging under notebooks and quills to find the book. Mesmerized, Severus stopped in his tracks to enjoy the view. Her jeans stretched over the round mounds of her rump, and he could swear the center seam was sinking into her crease. Goddammit, he wanted that arse! A flush of sexual heat rolled up his neck and baked his face. Bloody hell, he was already sweating. How could one little witch have such a drastic effect on him? With a silent incantation, Snape opened all the buttons on his frock coat and shrugged it off. He was still boiling. Tugging at his collar, he created a vent, and a cool breeze wafted down his chest. Much better.

__

When she turned around and saw him in just his black dress shirt, she stopped short and stared as if she could see through his clothes.

__

“Shall we sit?” he said, tossing his coat into the extra chair.

__

“Oh,” she muttered as if he’d snapped her out of her daydream. “Yes.”

__

Severus took a seat on her lumpy couch. It was patched and had one odd cushion that was red velvet rather than grey corduroy. What a discombobulated choice for such a persnickety witch. She obviously couldn’t afford more; her flat was like a cramped closet. London wasn’t cheap, and she was still young. He’d forgotten what it was like living hand to mouth.

__

She sat next to him, and Severus casually rested his arm along the back of the seat. _Come closer, said the spider to the fly_. She put the book in her lap and opened it to the front. As she flipped through the first pages, he surreptitiously observed her expression. She was aroused but not embarrassed by the beginning. There was a longer pause on the kissing closeups. No wonder she fancied Lucius and Draco; they were both sensual wizards, and she was sensual witch. That was probably why the rougher chapters frightened her. Pain was less about pleasure and more about the experience. The intensity. A person had to develop a craving for it.

__

When she got to the chapter on submission, she stopped. “Have you ever collared anyone?”

__

“No. I’ve never been involved with anyone on that level.”

__

She turned to the first pages on spanking and ran her hand over the picture. “Did you spank Narcissa?”

__

“Occasionally. Not usually in an over-the-knee sense, just arse slapping in the heat of the moment.”

__

"Have you spanked other witches?”

__

“A few,” he said evasively. It was probably best not to elaborate on his past or mention the myriad of perverse characters one mingled with as a Death Eater.

__

“What about other stuff, like riding crops and canes?”

__

Snape smiled to himself. “I know how to use them.”

__

She stopped on an illustration of a witch bound to a spanking bench. “Have you tied anyone up?”

__

“Yes. Many times.”

__

Hermione turned her head, and for a second he thought she was checking out his crotch; but then she said, “I think I’d like to try your belt,” and he realized she was looking to see if he was wearing one.

__

“Right now?”

__

She rifled forward a few more pages. “After we get through this chapter . . . and maybe a couple others. Will you put me over your knee first?”

__

She’d gotten a lot quieter with that last question. Embarrassed but eager. He liked that she was so ready to play. Severus pressed his leg to hers, closing the remaining distance between them. If she wasn’t going to waste any time, he wasn’t going to either. “But of course.”

__

Smiling, she turned the pages, slowing down at every red bum she came to. When she got to the end, she flipped back to the chapter before. Anal play. Things were getting more interesting by the second.

__

“Will you . . . uh . . . touch me while you’re spanking me?”

__

“I know of no other way to spank a witch.”

__

“I mean, will you touch me the way you did in the library? Until I come.”

__

He reached over and skipped forward a few pages to a close up photo of a woman’s lily white backside being penetrated by two long ebony fingers. “I might. Did you have a preference as to which hole?” 

__

Her face flushed, and she bit the nervous smile from her lips before whispering, “Both.”

__

_That’s what I thought_. Severus turned to an illustration of a man sliding a plug into his lover’s freshly-spanked backside. “Should I just use fingers?”

__

“I . . . I don’t have a plug.”

__

That would need to be remedied. “Do you have lube?”

__

She nodded. “Should I get it now?”

__

“If you like. Is there anything else you need to show me?”

__

Hermione paused. The pages started swishing past again, and he assumed that was a yes. When she got to the section on enemas, she slowed to a crawl, not stopping, but turning the pages slower than molasses in March. There was a long silence when she got to the picture of a witch spreading her cheeks for an enema bulb, the stem disappearing into her dark whorl.

__

“Um . . .” she wavered. “No. Nothing else.” Closing the book, she sprang up and practically ran out of the room. “I’ll get the lube.”

__

Severus watched her go, a surprised grin spreading over his face. What an unexpected revelation. It wasn’t just the spanking she was after. It was the loss of control. She wanted to be at his mercy. He should have seen that coming. Many powerful witches preferred handing over the reins in the bedroom. It was their chance to let go.

__

He doubted she had the equipment for any enema adventures, but he’d set up something in the future. Discovering that one fantasy shifted their interaction into a whole new realm. She wasn’t just shagging him out of desperation or horniness, she was hungry for his authority. She had been since that first night in the library.

__

Opening the book on the table, Severus turned to the picture of the enema-witch again. He intended to let her know he was onto her secret. But he’d let her sweat it out for a bit.

__

She came back with an aqua tube of lube. Handing it to him shyly, she looked as if she was about to burst with nervous excitement.

__

Severus set the lube on the end table and gave her his most Snape-ish eyebrow arch. “Are you ready?”

__

Hermione nodded.

__

“Then I think it’s time to take down your trousers.” He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her forward to stand between his legs. Her breathing picked up, her arousal obvious. Score one for Severus. Running a finger along the front seam of her trousers, he looked up into her eyes. “I only give spankings on the bare bottom.”

__

Her pupils expanded, hollowing out into black pools of desire; and when he slid down the zip, her hungry gasp drowned out the click of the metal teeth. Using both hands, Severus peeled the denim over her hips, and her trousers turned inside out as he drew them toward her feet. She wiggled about, helping him to work them down her legs, which was thoughtful but, ultimately, distracting. The pantsing dance made her minuscule pink knickers shimmy back and forth in a sensual samba. Caught up in the rhythm, Snape slid his hand between her thighs and grazed her damp cotton furrow with one finger.

__

Clucking his tongue, he looked up at her with an amused leer. “Is this wetness I feel?”

__

Her face went red, but she nodded without breaking eye contact.

__

His finger ticked back and forth, lightly brushing the apex of her slit. “Are your knickers just constantly drenched now?”

__

She covered her face with both hands. “No, sir.”

__

"Just when a Slytherin is undressing you?”

__

“Mostly, sir.”

__

He smirked and traced the top of her knicker elastic, tickling her lower belly with the edge of his nail. “How fortunate for me.”

__

Hooking one finger into the top of her panties, he drew down the front, revealing a slice of the brunette bush he’d been dreaming about all week. He wanted to pet her little kitty, but first . . . Leaning forward, Snape inhaled the musky scent drifting from her sex; she peeked through her fingers to see what he was up to.

__

“You certainly do love spankings, don’t you?” Severus teased. “I haven’t even started yet, and you’re already dripping. I think you’d better tell me what’s left you so . . . _eager_.”

__

“Ummmm”—her eyes shot to the side—”today I’ve mostly been thinking about your cock, sir.”

__

He’d never known honesty to be so delightfully indecent. “What about my cock?”

__

“I love it.”

__

He choked back a laugh. “I see. Any particular reason why?”

__

“It’s beautiful.”

__

No one had ever called any part of him beautiful. Lucius was beautiful. Snape was, at best, interesting. As he turned her answer over in his mind, Severus slid his fingers along her waistband, over to her hip, then used his other hand to help pull her panties to her knees. When she parted her thighs to assist, he caught sight of her dewy curls. They weren’t drenched, but the wet shine of her arousal had darkened the roots. Severus swallowed thickly, the memory of her flavor causing his mouth to water. “I’ll let you have another taste later . . . after I fuck this juicy little pussy. Step out of your clothes and get over my knee."

__

She quickly kicked away her discarded layers and turned to the side.

__

“Other way,” he said calmly. “I’m right-handed.”

__

Switching directions, Granger did an awkward little shuffle and lowered herself across his lap. For such a nervous witch, she was certainly keen to get into position. Severus rested his hand on her pale backside and patted her cheek. “I’ll give you a couple minutes with my hand then we’ll move on to the belt.”

__

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, and there was a tug at his leg as she clutched the cuff of his trousers.

__

Capitalizing on the element of surprise, Snape drew back his hand and brought it down with a loud smack. Her body jolted, but she quickly recovered and arched up for more. Severus smiled as his handprint rose to the surface, emblazoning her cheeks with his signature. That was his arse now. Lucius might have charmed it for one night—and Merlin only knew what Draco had done to it—but her night with Severus Snape wouldn’t soon be forgotten.

__

_Slap!_ Her backside wobbled with every hit, her skin turning the most lovely shade of pink. It would go well with her blushing face. _Slap!_ Each percussive clap was followed by a divine whimper. Gods, he loved that sound! _Slap!_ The more tingly his hand became, the more frantic her dancing. She was kicking and grunting, almost humping his leg as she recoiled and then sprang back into position.

__

“Ow! Oh God! Please, sir!”

__

He paused to give her a rub. “Yes?”

__

“I just need a break.”

__

Snape slipped his hand between her legs and stroked the pad of his thumb along the line of her sex. “You’re drenched—even your thighs are wet. I think I should keep going and see how long it takes you to come.”

__

“Please, sir,” she panted. “Give me a minute.”

__

He smirked. “Very well. I’ll entertain myself.”

__

Tracking his finger along the dark heat of her fissure, he found the stiff swelling of her clit and stroked its hood until he was coated in her silk. When his teasing became sufficiently sloppy, he drew his finger through her folds, past the oil slick of her opening, over the taut skin of her perineum, and finally, across the chocolate pucker of her arse.

__

Her entire body arched like a bow and then quaked with a succession of shuddery tremors. “Mmmm!”

__

_Mmmmm? That looked more like a ‘Dear God, please!’ to me._ He tickled her rosebud with the tip of his finger just to see what else she could do. She was quite the contortionist.

__

“Did you clean this when you went to your room, or should I do it now?” 

__

“Aaaaah!” Her hips were briefly airborne, lifting toward his touch. “I cleaned it, sir.”

__

“With the spell from that book?”

__

“Yes, sir.”

__

Using both hands, he spread her cheeks wide and inspected her work. “It looks lovely. Have you been practicing with your own fingers?”

__

“Yes, sir,” she answered quietly.

__

“Have Lucius or Draco put anything in here?”

__

“Ummm . . . Lucius put a finger in me.”

__

“Did he? Was that all?”

__

“Yes, sir.”

__

Severus traced the perimeter of sienna that outlined her anus. “And how many fingers were you expecting from me this evening?”

__

“Just one . . . maybe two.”

__

He chuckled. _Maybe two_. “All right. Do you usually come when you finger your arse?”

__

“Yes, sir.”

__

He could tell how red her face was getting without even seeing it. “Should I get the lube now, or would you prefer the belt first?”

__

She debated for several seconds, the ticking of the clock filling the silence. “The belt, sir.”

__

Already delaying gratification. He appreciated a witch with discipline. “Then it’s time to grant your wish. I think you’re warmed up now.”

__

He helped her stand, steadying her when she wobbled. She covered her pussy with both hands and looked away as if she didn’t know what to do. Severus let it slide for the time being—embarrassment was something to savor. As he rose and moved to the side of the couch, she turned, keeping her bum out of sight.

__

Severus motioned toward the sofa with the flick of one pale finger. “Bend over the arm of the couch, legs apart, hands on the seat.”

__

Hermione’s gaze darted to the seat in question, and he could tell she was battling a bad case of the jitters. Her feet fumbled, full of equal parts anxiety and eagerness, but she made it safely and eased herself into place just as he’d asked. Turning to look over her shoulder, her big brown eyes searched his, as if she needed a nod of approval.

__

A wicked grin was all she got. With a lascivious quirk of one eyebrow, Severus dropped his hands to his belt—and her eyes rounded to the size of saucers.

__

“Have you ever been whipped before?” he asked as he flicked open the clasp.

__

“No, sir,” she answered, her voice shaking.

__

Snape pulled the belt free and doubled it over. “I’ll only give you six to start with. Tell me if you can’t take them all.”

__

“Yes, sir.”

__

Severus stepped closer and touched the leather to her cheeks to line up his aim. Gods, he hadn’t been in that position in what felt like eons. He refused to remind himself just how old he was by coming up with an actual number. The stance felt so natural. So right. The sight of her upturned rump made his chest ache. How he’d missed this. He drew back his arm and, with a smooth swing, snapped the belt over both buttocks. The crack was like a gunshot.

__

“Ow!” Hermione leapt up and vigorously rubbed her arse. “That bloody hurt!”

__

Snape didn’t react. He just watched. She appeared worried, as if she’d jumped into something and was suddenly realizing she might have misjudged the depth. He had hit her hard, but not his hardest. Not even close. That red line branding her bum would be unbearably hot and stingy for a minute, but then it would dissipate, and the warmth would spread. Would she talk herself out of the rest before that happened?

__

“Was that too hot for you?” he asked evenly.

__

“Yes!” Tears stood in her eyes.

__

Severus nodded, undeterred by her accusing glare. “Then perhaps you should take off your shirt and cool down.”

__

Hermione paused, her hands stilling as her forehead squinched with confusion. “You want me naked?”

__

“Preferably . . . and bent over the couch. Go on.”

__

Cautiously, she pulled her shirt over her head, eyeing him the whole time as if she expected it to be some sort of trick.

__

“And the bra,” he added, giving her remaining layer a pointed nod.

__

“I don’t want to be naked if you’re not.”

__

Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. She seemed to have missed that all-important chapter on humiliation.

__

“We are not wheeling and dealing here, Miss Granger. When you submit to someone, it will naturally raise some fears and anxieties in your mind; but, just as you dealt with the embarrassment that night in the library, you can deal with it here in your sitting room. I know the first lick hurt, but I want you to focus on that burn right now. Does it sting as much as it did a minute ago?”

__

She absently rubbed her bum with one hand. “No, not really.”

__

“Is that heat spreading?”

__

She gave a little nod.

__

“Where?”

__

Hermione bit her lip, but then softly answered, “My pussy.”

__

Severus nodded knowingly. "I'll give you the rest very slowly and let you get used to each hit before moving on to the next. That is the only concession I’ll make. If you take the remaining hits without getting up, I’ll rub your bottom for you when we’re done.”

__

“And make me come?”

__

Snape couldn’t help smiling. Always negotiating. Lucius would like that. “If you’re a good girl, several times.”

__

Her molten eyes flared, her pupils expanding like ink blots, and without another word, she unhooked her bra and bent back over the couch. He had to admit, there was something to be said for Gryffindor bravery . . . or the magic of a well-timed “good girl.”

__

Severus ran his fingers over the pink stripe traversing her arse, congratulating her for the display of courage with a conciliatory touch. “Are you ready to proceed?”

__

She nodded, her back and arms tensing in preparation.

__

Snape’s fingers flexed around the leather, reveling in its cool, almost weightless strength. Such an useful implement. Just look how beautifully it had adorned her supple flesh with its unassuming power. Longing to see another hash mark light up her rump, Snape brought the belt down with a sharp _whap!_

__

“Ow!” Hermione kicked one foot against the floor and reached back to clasp her bum.

__

“Follow the sting,” he murmured, watching as her hand gingerly caressed the red line. She kept pulling her cheek to the side, accidentally showing him her crinkled star with every rub. “Notice how it changes and where it goes. When does it switch from stinging to throbbing? When does it go from throbbing to heat? When does it reach your pussy?”

__

She continued to rub for a minute, but her hand slowed as the sting faded. When she returned to her starting position without a word of complaint, Severus smiled and rested his left hand on her lower back to let her know how pleased he was with her effort. She was breathing a bit hard, but otherwise she appeared calm. It seemed she could handle the intensity of the belt as long as he gave her ample time to come to terms with its plethora of sensations.

__

“Ready?”

__

"Yes, sir."

__

“No rubbing this time. I’ll do it for you.”

__

“Okay.”

__

He kept his hand on her lower back, splaying his fingers across her sacrum as he whipped the leather over her cheeks again.

__

“Ow! Fuck!” She danced on her toes for few tense seconds then settled down.

__

Severus ran his palm over her flambéd bum, back and forth, easing away the sting. She calmed much more quickly that time. In less than thirty seconds, her body had  gone completely slack, like a lethargic cat relaxing into a petting. “Good girl. Are you ready for the next one?”

__

“Yes, sir.”

__

He held her down with his fingertips, applying no pressure, just letting her know he was there.

__

_Whap!_

__

“Unnnnnh!” She kicked the floor, bending her knees and wiggling around as if her lower half was possessed.

__

Snape smoothed his palm over both cheeks, slowly, methodically, studying her back for signs of stress. When she dropped her face against the seat with a deep sigh, he skimmed his left hand up the length of her spine, into the hair at the nape of her neck, and then back down again, chasing her vertebra until he returned to her razed globes. His eyes drank her in. That arse would be his masterpiece. “Just two more. On the next one, I’m not going to rub you. You’re going to follow the sting and tell me when you’re ready. But after the last one, I’ll put some lotion on your arse and rub until you’re all better. Where do you keep your lotion?”

__

“There’s some in my bedroom.”

__

“Where in your bedroom?”

__

“On the shelf under my nightstand.”

__

“I’ll go get it. Keep your hands off your bottom while I’m gone.”

__

“Yes, sir.” She folded her arms under her head and stared at the cushion.

__

Severus headed off in the direction she’d disappeared earlier and found her cramped bedroom at the end of the short hall. He spotted the tube of lotion just where she said it would be. The label read Blood Orange. He popped opened the top and took a whiff. _Nice_. He’d never associated spanking with any particular smell—save leather and pussy—but he _was_ rather fond of citrus. Perhaps he could relive this moment each morning at breakfast, an olfactory stroll down memory lane to start the day off right.

__

When Severus returned to the front room, she was exactly as he’d left her: face buried in her arms, her naked body invitingly stretched for maximum visibility, her arse propped high like the centerpiece it was. “Are you ready to continue?”

__

“Yes, sir.” 

__

Severus set the tube on the coffee table and picked up the belt. “Spread your legs for me, girl. No sense in pretending; we both know how wet you are. I can smell you from here.”

__

Hiding her face in the seat, Hermione slid her feet further apart—but not enough to expose the shadowy charms that lay between her legs. Silently snickering, Severus took up his place behind her and brushed his fingertips over her lower back. As he trailed along her coccyx, she lifted her bum into his touch, exhibiting her slit exactly as he’d imagined. Continuing lower, Severus grazed the cleft of her arse and rode the line all the way down to the cozy glen where her pussy disappeared between her thigh. She whimpered appropriately, and Severus nudged her legs with the sides of his fingers to get her to open up. “Wider,” he murmured. 

__

Hermione anxiously rolled her hips and spread her feet a few inches further.

__

Snape tipped his head to the side to get a better view. “Wider.”

__

When her legs were lewdly spread, and her sex fully accessible, he gave her quim a gentle stroke and whispered, “Good girl.” But as soon as she tried to mash her cunt into his hand, he brought the leather up to her striped skin and tapped her in warning. He wanted her to anticipate the hit, to crave the sharp bite of the belt. And she would. It might take some time, but if he blended the pain with anticipation and pleasure, she’d grow to desire the deliverance of submission just as strongly as she desired the emancipation of orgasm.

__

Severus had missed this confluence of sexual serendipity. It was a relief to find someone who wanted exactly what he had to give. Lucius liked a variety of kinks, but the man was the antithesis of submission. He might relish a thorough fucking, but he didn’t know how to let go and give into the experience—he was always grasping at any vestige of control, unable to fully receive. Severus knew that reluctance all too well. 

__

Fortunately, he also knew the joys of giving.

__

_Whap!_

__

“Unnnnh!” She kicked and bucked her hips but obediently kept her hands off her backside.

__

Severus swiped his thumb back and forth in a soothing tick tock, bouncing between the dimples perched at the apex of each cheek. It took longer that time, but with the help of some deep breaths and his murmured assurance that she’d done well, she gradually calmed and relaxed into a boneless heap.

__

“Sir?”

__

“Yes?”

__

“I feel weird.”

__

“In what way?”

__

“Kind of nervous, but . . . really alert. But I’m turned on . . . and scared too.”

__

He nodded. “You took the other five so beautifully. Do you want to stop?”

__

“No, but . . . I think I’m going to cry.”

__

“That’s all right. You’re allowed. I didn’t expect you to take it with a stiff upper lip.”

__

“There’s only one more, right? Then you’ll rub my bum?”

__

He smiled. “That’s right. Are you ready?”

__

She tightened her arms underneath her body, bracing for the impact. “Yes, sir.”

__

Snape was disappointed that they’d reached the end of this portion of their evening, but he _was_ rather looking forward to rubbing her bum. He couldn’t remember ever longing for a lengthy round of aftercare in the past, but he couldn't deny that the urge consumed him now—his hands itched to calm her quivering cheeks and stroke her fevered brow.

__

Soon.

__

With a deep, cleansing breath, Severus centered himself in the present and tapped the leather against the curve of her buttocks, marking where the belt would land: right at the sensitive strip where her thighs met her arse. It was time to test her resolve.

__

_Whap!_

__

“Fuck!” Her body jerked, but she didn’t struggle or attempt to rise. Her breath heaved in and out like a hurricane, but eventually, her muscles unclenched, and she fell limp against the arm of the couch.

__

“There,” he said softly. “Can you stand? Why don't you let me sit down so you can lie over my lap?”

__

Accepting his proffered hand, her fingers wove around his, and he could feel her trembling as if she were terrified; but when she briefly met his gaze, he saw no fear in her eyes. Just desperate hope. A mirror of the yearning in his own soul. It struck a chord. Sitting down to disguise how startled he was, Severus ushered her over his knee, stroking her back as she draped her naked body across his thighs with a deep sigh.

__

Her hair tumbled over her bare shoulders in a rambunctious cascade of curls, and his fingers flexed with the urge to comb through those chestnut tresses; but when he tried to free himself from her grasp, she wouldn't let go.

__

"I need to open the lotion, Miss Granger.”

__

Her grip remained firm.

__

“You want me to rub your bum, don't you?”

__

“Yes, sir.”

__

“Then give me my hand.”

__

She made no attempt to release him.

__

“Miss Granger,” he said calmly. “Am I to be your prisoner all night?”

__

“Yes,” she said simply. “You’re talented; I think you can rub my bum with one hand.”

__

Well of course he could. And he supposed if that was all it took to calm her, he could cope. Snape flipped open the tube with his thumb and squirted two large white blobs atop her glowing derrière. 

__

With the flat of his palm, he spread the lotion over her left buttock and began to massage it in, squeezing the meat of her glutes between his greased fingers. _What a lovely way to spend an evening_.

__

“How’s your arse feeling now?” he asked conversationally.

__

“Like a sunspot.”

__

Chuckling, he tested her temperature with the back of his hand. “I concur. How does your pussy feel?”

__

“Insanely wet. Why am I so turned on? That was . . . exciting, but . . . it didn’t make me want to come.”

__

“Our bodies don’t always do what our conscious mind tells them to. Sometimes our brains are turned on, but our bodies aren’t; and sometimes it’s the other way round.”

__

“Like when guys get hard for no reason?”

__

“Yes. Or when they get hard for reasons that disturb them. Or when they can’t get hard at all even though they’re aroused.”

__

She held his hand tighter. “My heart is still beating really hard.”

__

“I know. It's all right. Just try to relax.”

__

Hermione took a deep breath and let it out like a slow leak. Her grip never wavered. He was beginning to find it strangely natural. That was odd. He hadn’t held hands with anyone in . . . sweet Merlin's ghost . . . over thirty years? Despite his desire for touch, Lucius wasn’t really the “holding hands” type. At least not with him. The last person to hold Snape’s hand was Lily. He might have been twelve. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Maybe he should enjoy Granger’s stubborn affection while he had it.

__

Snape worked the cream into her other cheek, thinking about what they’d just done and what else he’d like to do to her. The possibilities were endless. If he played his cards right, he’d have a willing partner for all his dominant urges, a little fireball who’d beg for a spanking and then beg for his dick.

__

No one could claim Lucius wasn’t a marvelously talented lover, but Granger had a certain softness that Severus hadn’t known since Narcissa’s untimely death. It brought out something in him that he couldn’t identify. What was it? Compassion? Possibly. But there was something else, something he couldn’t put his finger on.

__

Adrift in his thoughts—and the heat of her pliant cheeks—it took him several seconds to realize her jagged breathing was actually crying. Snape froze mid-pet. “What’s the matter?”

__

“I don’t know,” she whispered in a shaky warble.

__

“I do. You’re just coming down from all the adrenaline. Why don’t you turn around and sit in my lap.”

__

Her response was delayed, as if she couldn’t understand what he’d said, but then she backed up and twisted around, pulling her legs under and over until she was perched on his thigh. She had to release his hand to manage the move, and Snape felt a twinge of regret at having lost the kiss of her palm. Looping his arm around her waist, he pulled her in close, hoping to regain that sense of connection. “Put your arm around me. It’s all right.”

__

Hermione looked at him, sniffled, then slipped her arm around his neck.

__

“That’s it. Now just rest. The sadness will pass.” He ran his thumb comfortingly over her hip. “I should have warned you you might feel this way.”

__

“This happens to everyone?”

__

“It varies in severity and timing, but yes. The more extreme your nervousness, the more extreme the drop.”

__

“So I just hug you till it goes away?”

__

He kept his face blank, but inside confusion rolled through him like an approaching storm. She wanted to hug him? No one hugged him. He was Severus bloody Snape. The word hug did not belong in any conversation that involved him—even peripherally. But she’d suggested it without a hint of irony, as if hugging him was the obvious remedy for her woes.

__

“If that’s what makes you feel better,” he answered carefully.

__

Granger put her head on his shoulder and held onto him as tightly as she could, weeping softly into his neck as if she were exhausted.

__

Just as Lucius once had.

__

“Will you rub my back?” she whispered between stuttered gasps.

__

He did so without comment. No one had ever asked him for comfort. Ever. He’d offered it freely to Lily, but he wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about such things as a child. He’d forced it on Lucius, who had responded favorably for the most part. But having someone—anyone—request his aid was nothing short of bizarre. He knew what to do, whether instinctually or from observing those around him; but it was a bit like doing the foxtrot for the first time: you went through the movements even though they felt awkward to your untrained feet.

__

Severus sat there in a mild stupor for the next fifteen minutes, rubbing her back like a robot who’d been set to soothe. He didn’t know what to think or how to react. That feeling that he’d had while convalescing Lucius had returned, poking up like the first buds of spring searching for sunlight. Shit. This was not what he was expecting when he came over.

__

It was better. 

__

But horrifying at the same time.

__

How had this happened so fast? How did Granger bring this out in him with absolutely no effort? She was comfortably snuggled into his body, as if cuddling with her snarky ex-Potions master was completely natural.

__

She sniffled. “Sir?”

__

“Yes?”

__

“I feel a lot better now.”

__

He took that to mean “let go of me,” so he relaxed his arm—but she did not. She pulled him tighter.

__

“Will you keep holding me while I ride your cock?”

__

He resumed his back rubbing. “Perhaps you should rest.”

__

“I am rested. But if you don’t want to . . . or you're not ready, we can wait.”

__

"I'm not hard enough now. You'll have to get me going again.”

__

She smiled against his neck. “Gladly. I’d better get you out of these clothes first.”

__

Wiggling over to his side, she gave him room to undo his zip and push his trousers to his knees. Before he could so much as blink, her warm hand was caressing him through the thin cotton of his black boxers. His body responded immediately, his prick snapping back into action as if she’d hit the erection alarm.

__

“Will you take off your shirt so I can feel you?” she whispered, her breath hot on his ear.

__

A shudder trickled down his spine and rumbled through his gut like thunder. “Since you asked nicely,” he quipped. “Why don’t you help me with my shoes and socks so I can—”

__

She had slithered down to his feet and started stripping him before he could even finish the sentence. When his feet were bare, her gaze darted to the tent in his boxers, and Severus’s body went on red alert. His stomach flipped and tumbled down through his intestines, but luckily his scrotum was concurrently on the rise, which buffered that descent with a surge of exhilaration. How . . . disconcerting . . . while at the same time perfect. Lifting his hips, he pushed his shorts down with his trousers, breathing a sigh of relief that he wasn’t actually stuck to them. She grinned and pulled off his clothes while he started on his shirt buttons. Distracted by his task, he was caught off guard by the unexpected—and delightfully wet—envelopment of his prick. When he glanced down, she looked up at him, her lips stretching around his girth in a cautious smile, as if she wasn’t so sure she should have taken such liberties without asking.

__

Severus cupped the side of her face and rolled his hips toward her mouth. “That’s it. Nice and slow.” Now was not the time to start playing games of denial.

__

Her tongue circled his corona and trilled over his frenulum. Gods! That girl deserved an O in dick licking. By the time he’d gotten his shirt unbuttoned and cast aside, she had his hard-on gleaming like a shiny new Sickle. It stood up proud and hard in her clenched fist.

__

Unable to withstand another moment of teasing, Snape pulled his cock away and beckoned her back into his lap. “All right. Come up here.”

__

Scrambling up his body, she anchored her knees on either side of his hips and settled against him. The warmth of her naked flesh was otherworldly; the sweet friction of skin on skin set his senses ablaze. He wanted her more than he could comprehend, wanted to be inside her, wrapped in her welcoming embrace. She smashed her leaking quim against the rigid heat of his shaft and began to grind. In less than ten seconds he was slathered in her juices from root to tip. She even managed to baste his balls and lower abdomen in her lubricious enthusiasm.

__

Severus grabbed her hips in both hands and lifted her up before he lost his mind. “Okay,” he growled. “That’s enough. Ride me.”

__

Smiling, she reached down and aligned him with her entrance. Then, carefully, she sank down, taking him in inch by inch. Severus couldn’t breathe. Her sheath was so engorged it felt as if all the pressure in his cock was being squeezed up into his brain. He’d never felt anything so blissful in all his life. And the feeling must have been mutual, because her eyes were fluttering so hard it looked as if she was having a seizure.

__

“That’s my girl,” he muttered mindlessly. “Is your pussy nice and full?”

__

She flopped her head up and down in a mad mockery of agreement, but then went stock still the second he bumped her cervix. Her fingernails sank into his shoulder, and she sat there with her mouth hanging open for what felt like hours.

__

The circling of her hips broke the spell, and they both groaned in unison. She met his gaze, her irises scalding him like chocolate lava. Her lower lip began to tremble, and she sucked in several quick snips of air. If his cock had a facial expression, he knew it would be an exact match to hers: dazed ecstasy bordering on orgasmic panic.

__

“Ride me,” he repeated, this time through gritted teeth. “I want to feel that pussy clamping around my cock. If you love my dick so much, then show me.”

__

She nodded blankly and began to rock, slipping him in and out of her silken cove at the slowest pace imaginable. Merlin’s fucking blue balls! Rapture had never been such torture. Moving his hands to her backside, he palmed her striped cheeks, keeping a look out for signs of discomfort. He found the opposite. Her lashes drooped as her eyes rolled back; her hips picked up speed, going from torturous to teasing. Gently, Snape spread those two hemispheres until east and west were openly divided.

__

“Yessssssss,” she hissed.

__

Severus kept his eyes on hers, watching the ecstasy steal over her features. Dazzled by sensation and arousal, she stared back, seemingly incapable of blinking. Without meaning to he caught a glimpse of her mind’s lush landscape, and he couldn’t resist peeking. It was like hearing bouncing bed springs through a closed door and being offered a two foot keyhole to spy through.

__

Delving into the chaos, he breezed past images of himself: fresh memories of her looking up at him as she sucked his dick, her writhing atop his lap, her checking out his bulging crotch. It was interesting to see what had caught her attention. Then he came upon her most recent sexual escapades. She was turned on by them even if they weren’t consciously on her mind. He saw Lucius fucking her before a wall of window, the lights of Paris twinkling just beyond the glass. The scene was insanely erotic. No wonder she was so taken by him.

__

Then he saw Draco bound in restraints. The boy was struggling for relief, his dick brick red and leaking all over his stomach. Was that what she’d done with him? Tied him up? That didn’t fit with the submissive tendencies she’d exhibited thus far, but he had to admit he liked her style.

__

He left the images of Draco’s demise and wandered deeper. There they all were together in Lucius’s bed. And there was their first night in the library. She must have been recalling the images often to keep them so prominent.

__

Beneath the replays, he found the ephemeral projections of fantasies. They weren’t as solid as her memories—more like wispy ghost movies. There seemed to be a lot of spanking, a lot of fucking, and a lot of licking. He could have stayed there for ages sifting through the avalanche of carnality.

__

Hello . . . what was that? Detention with Professor Snape? _Naughty girl_. Anal plugs? _I knew it._ Caning. Paddling. Strapping. He was sensing a theme. Droves of discipline. And control. So she _did_ want what he had to offer. Some of her fantasies were variations of the pictures from the book, except with her as the star. Nipple clamps. Chastity belts. Double-ended dildos. _Sweet Circe! When good girls go bad._

__

And bloody hell, she had a whole corridor of enema fantasies. He’d better get on that as soon as possible.

__

Just beyond the enema ward, he stumbled into the shadows of her darkest desires. The ones that scared her. The kinks she thought were too taboo. He poked around and smiled at what he found. _Oh no, little girl, you haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of taboo. Allow me to escort you into the depths of real depravity._

__

What a revealing glimpse into the real Hermione Granger. The insight made him see her from a new angle, and in a burst of comprehension, Severus saw her in a whole new light. Hermione Granger was a very sexual witch, more so than anyone understood. She wanted both domination and submission, lust and love, class and crass. Her interest in spanking wasn’t about pain—it was about her brain. While she found it exciting to tie Draco to the bed and drive him mad, she needed the psychological abandon that came from handing over her power to another person. Particularly a man. But she had some very specific requirements from that man. Severus didn’t know if he could fulfill them all, but . . . her wants meshed so well with his own; he’d be a fool not to try.

__

Severus pulled out of her mind, pausing for a moment to reconcile the inner-Hermione with the witch she presented to the world. “I know what you want, little girl.”

__

She blinked stupidly as if she’d just woken up. “Huh?”

__

“If you wanted to be my dirty little schoolgirl, you should have just said so.”

__

Her eyes went wide.

__

“I can just picture you tied open on my desk, your wet pussy spread for everyone to see, your arse full of my fingers. We’re going to spend a nice night together making sure that bottom gets everything it needs.”

__

She stopped moving. “What do you mean?”

__

Reaching up, he grabbed her chin so she couldn’t look away. “You know exactly what I mean. And that enema you’ve been dreaming about, I can do that for you . . . to you. Just the way you want it. But not tonight. Tonight I’m going to get my fingers so deep inside your arse you’re going to think you died and went to anal heaven. So you’d better start riding, little girl, because I don’t intend to stop fucking you until this pussy screams for mercy.”

__

She stared at him as if he’d gone mad.

__

Snape put his hands on either side of her face and tipped her forehead down to touch his. “I am not joking, young lady. If you don’t start riding me this instant, I’m going to put you right back over my knee and light your bum on fire . . . and I don’t think you want that while you're still so sore. I suggest you get moving.”

__

Her hips began to rock. Just a little.

__

“That’s it,” he said with a soft smirk. “Isn’t that better?”

__

Warily, she nodded.

__

“Do you still love my cock as much as you did earlier?”

__

The corners of her mouth twittered into a curious smile and her hips took on a more confident pace. “Yes.”

__

“Do you know why you like it so much?”

__

“Because it . . . feels good?” she ventured.

__

Severus grinned. “Mmmmmm, yes. But I think it appeals to you for other, more personal, reasons. Does it make you feel . . . Dominated? Surrendered, perhaps?”

__

She blinked several times as if processing the possibility.

__

“You feel . . . and _safe_ when I’m inside you. Am I wrong?”

__

Hermione looked absolutely lost, but after a dazed pause she finally shook her head no.

__

“I think you need to be being taken care of—in the most sexual way possible.”

__

She nodded blankly.

__

“I know,” he murmured. “We’ll see just how much care you want in the future, but for now, this cock takes care of your pussy. Do you understand?”

__

Hermione nodded again.

__

“There’s a naughty little girl in you dying to play, and I’m going to fuck her out into the open. I intend to put you over my knee every single time we meet. You’re going to have the reddest backside in the Ministry . . . and you’re going to beg me for more.”

__

She rode him faster, her respiration revving to a steady pant that steamed his lips.

__

“I’m going to fill you up with so much cream you’ll be choking on it. All over you arse, all over your face, deep inside this slippery little pussy.”

__

Her eyes went dark as charcoal. “All over me?”

__

_Sweet Circe, yes_. This witch was a bloody marvel. “All over you. You’re mine, little girl. Tell me how much you want it.”

__

“I want it, sir. You’ll really spank me every time you see me?”

__

A rich chuckle rumbled from his chest. “You’d better not hesitate when I tell you to bend over. I’ll pull down your knickers and spank you in front of everyone if you’re slow to move.”

__

Her bucking became frantic, the wet slurp of her cunny attesting to her zeal. “I want that, sir.”

__

“I know. And I want to give it to you.” The tight barrel of muscles cinching his shaft fluttered off and on in a flickering stranglehold. Severus hissed at the constriction and grabbed a handful of her arse to spur her on. “Come for me, Hermione. Say my name.”

__

“Mm-m-m-m,” she whimpered. “Yes . . . Severus. Oh gods!”

__

Her muscles twitched and then clamped down. Snape grunted through his teeth, holding himself in check as she trembled in his arms. He wasn’t anywhere close to being through with her, and he didn’t want to take time out to recharge. He’d come later. All over her. As promised.

__

Choked cries of satisfaction slipped from her lips as the orgasm demolished her restraint. The pleasure wracking her core jerked her body to and fro, but Severus just held her tighter. That climax was half his, and he wanted to share in every shudder.

__

When the trembling subsided, she sighed his name and dropped her head against his shoulder. He knew what she needed and rubbed her back without being asked.

__

“Good girl,” he murmured.

__

He felt her smiling against his neck, and a ripple of prickly chills skittered down his spine until it reached the base of his balls, where it melted into a pool of bubbling magma. She pecked his throat, just next to his concealed scar, which left behind a spot that refused to stop tingling.

__

With a contented sigh, she curled into him and propped one hand against his racing heart. Snape brushed his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes, savoring the buzzy warmth of her body. Despite his aching balls, he found a measure of peace in her embrace.

__

_I could get used to this._

__

When he saw Lucius the next day, he’d bring up the logistics of their involvement. Lucius was a fan of reason; Severus just needed to find a way to explain what was at stake. For all of them.

__

He needed to talk to Draco too, but that would be a much more delicate negotiation. He’d need time to consider his approach.

__

Severus glanced down as Hermione stirred, her hand trailing over his chest in a stroke of enticement. His cock twitched inside her. Shit. He’d come up with a plan later.

__

There was a witch in need of his assistance.

__

And that tight little sphincter wasn't going to stretch itself.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conductor—One who directs a group of performers. The conductor indicates the tempo, phrasing, dynamics, and style by gestures and facial expressions.
> 
> "What Are You?" by Matt Sweeney and Bonnie "Prince" Billy. Written by Will Oldham (Bonnie "Prince" Billy) (lyrics), and Matt Sweeney (music) and released on the 2005 album Superwolf.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=TzBPFL_CG0Q>


	24. Dissonance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey, everybody. First off, thank you all for your continued support and understanding. It means a lot to me, and it takes off some of the pressure to know you're all so willing to wait. I promise I'm trying to take care of myself, but it seems like I'm hit with setback after setback when it comes to my health. (And I know many of you are in the same boat.) I was doing really well for a few days, but things have regressed. I'm still writing almost every day, it's just taking me ages to get things done.  
> Here's a short (but important) chapter to keep things moving. The next two chapters go together, and I'd like to release them within a day or two of each other; so I intend to work on them until they're both done. That will most likely take me a while. Hope your patience holds out.

24—Dissonance 

“The trouble with love is it can tear you up inside . . .”—Kelly Clarkson

(Draco) 

Draco knocked on Hermione’s front door at 10:00 a.m. on the dot. She always woke before him, so she had to be up already. Although he’d tried to play it cool, he found it impossible to go the whole weekend without seeing her. Monday seemed so far away. If she didn’t smash her body up against his and hug his brains out, he was going to be completely useless. His body was missing some Hermione hormone that kept him in balance. _Let me in. I’m going barmy_. He knocked louder.

The door swung open, and Draco’s jaw dropped. Snape's black shirt was untucked and rumpled. He didn’t even have on his frock coat. His hair was a greasy, disheveled mess, and he had that posture of knackered relaxation that men only had after fucking. _No_. Draco’s stomach tightened, threatening to regurgitate his breakfast. Her shagging Severus in a foursome was fine—okay, it was just plain hot—but if she was screwing Snape at home, something more serious was going on.

Snape’s sour expression softened, and he glanced to the side, as if checking to see where Hermione was. Instead of calling out for her, he opened the door wider. “Draco.”

“I should go,” Malfoy muttered. “I didn’t know . . . she was . . . I should have owled.”

“Draco, wait.” Snape reached out to stop him. “Come in. I know she wants to see you.”

 _She does?_ Snape grabbed his arm and pulled him inside so he could shut the door. Draco was too shocked to shrug off the unexpected contact, and he definitely wasn't prepared for his godfather to grip him by the shoulders and pierce him with that penetrating black stare.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Draco. Miss Granger cares about you. Deeply. She would be heartbroken if she thought you’d been hurt by all this.”

“All _this_? What’s going on?”

“She’ll be out of the shower soon, and I’m sure she’ll explain it to you.”

“Have you been shagging her this whole time?” Draco whispered.

“No,” Severus said firmly. He put his hands on either side of Draco’s face and forced him to focus. “Listen to me. This is a complicated situation, but that girl loves you.”

The intimacy of the moment was startling. Severus had never touched him like that before; hell, the man rarely touched anyone—full stop. A flare of prickly excitement climbed Draco’s spine, and an odd warmth coated his belly. No wonder his father was so keen on keeping Severus close at hand. _Wait . . . did he say she loves me?_ “How do you know?”

“Because I saw it in her head. I don’t know what’s been going on between the two of you, but the emotion she associates with the thought of you is palpable.”

“I didn’t—“

“Severus,” Hermione called as she came down the hall, “I’m starved. Did you find the—“

She stepped into the room and froze, the words stalling in her open mouth.  

Snape released Draco’s face and nodded at her. “Look who’s come to see you. And yes, I did find the cereal.”

“Draco?” she whispered, her eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. “What are you doing here so early?”

When Draco didn’t answer, Snape did, “He obviously missed you. Why don’t you say good morning while I make us breakfast.”

Her hair was damp around the edges, clinging to her face and t-shirt in chestnut curlicues. She had on the same pajama bottoms Draco had seen her in a hundred times before. She looked beautiful. Just the sight of her made his heart ache.

“Draco’s had a bit of shock finding me here this morning,” Snape said, giving Hermione a pointed look. “I think you’d better be honest with him.”

Hermione took a tentative step forward. “I’m sorry, Draco. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

Snape disappeared into the kitchen, leaving them alone. 

Draco was too blindsided to think straight. It had been an eventful forty-five seconds. He just wanted to know what was going on. “Are you seeing Severus?”

She winced. “That’s difficult to put into words.”

“Do you like him more than me?”

Hermione’s brow knitted in a stricken line of agony. “No! I like him . . . differently than you.”

“I thought you wanted to . . . see me. Seriously. Not just shagging.”

The agony transformed to woe. “I do. I love being with you, Draco. I just . . . don’t know what’s going on with me right now.”

She _did_ want to date him? “If you want to keep having foursomes with Father and Snape, I’m okay with that; I just thought . . . you wanted . . . . Are you serious about him?”

Hermione put her hands over her eyes, but he saw her face crumpling before she could completely hide. Her voice came out muffled and wobbly behind her palms, “I don’t know how all this happened.”

Draco’s heart broke when he saw her start to crack. In just two steps, he had her in his arms. “Please don’t cry.”

Hermione buried her face in his chest and clung to his shirt. “I’m so sorry to put you through this, Draco. I honestly didn’t know what you really had in mind. I couldn’t tell if you just wanted to be friends with benefits or something more.”

Damn. If he’d just been honest with her from the start none of this would have happened. And he couldn’t blame her for being confused. How many times had he bragged about ditching some witch after a few friendly shags? How many times had he jokingly regaled her with horror stories of witches who just wouldn't leave him alone? Why would she expect anything different from him now? He had to give her something, something real, something to prove his sincerity. “I haven’t seen anyone else since that night in the library.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wet and ringed in red. “You haven’t?”

Malfoy shook his head. “Why would I need to? I had the witch I wanted.”

“Oh God,” she groaned, pressing her forehead to his heart and hugging him tightly. “I want you too. I promise I do. Let’s sit down. I’m freaking out.”

Draco took her to the couch and sat by her side, one arm around her shoulders to keep her calm. She reached over and grabbed his other hand, holding it in his lap as if she needed his touch as much as he needed hers. This was killing him—being so close but on the brink of possibly losing her. “What’s going on, Hermione? Why is Snape here if you want me?”

She sighed and tipped her head to his shoulder. “Because he has something I want too.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’ll bet.”

“Not that,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Well . . . sort of that . . . but . . . it’s more. I don’t know quite how to explain it, except that he gives me something I need. But you give me something I need too—it’s just a very different something. But I can’t bear the thought of losing you. If you weren’t in my life, I’d feel like a part of me was missing.”

He felt the same way about her. Imagining a world with no Hermione iced his guts like a glacier. Losing her now would destroy him. He had to be careful how he handled this. If he said the wrong thing, he’d be pushing her right into the arms of another man. “And you feel that way about Snape too?”

She nodded. “But Snape can’t give me what you give me—he can’t make me feel the way I do when I’m with you. He has his own strengths, just like you.”

“What about my father? Have you been seeing him as well?”

Her nod was barely perceptible.

Draco’s stomach sank like a stone. “Do you feel the same way about him?”

She nodded again. “He offers me something else entirely. I know this all sounds incredibly selfish on my part, and if you think I’m horrid, I’ll understand; but I don’t want to lie to any of you about how I feel.”

“So you really want to see all three of us?”

Hermione took a deep breath. “For now, yes; I think I do. I’m so confused. I go all this time dating guys I can’t connect with; then just when I’d given up on finding anyone at all, I’m bowled down by three at once. I’m still kind of in shock.”

Draco was confused too, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what Snape had said. _She loves me_. He didn’t think Severus was lying to make him feel better; that wasn’t his style. This was Draco’s chance, and he didn’t want to ruin it now that he was so close. Of course he wished he was the only one she wanted, but hopefully, if he showed her how much she meant to him, she’d come to the same conclusion. Surely love would win her heart in the end.

“What if I give you the things that Snape and Father give you?” he suggested.

Her eyes met his, and she studied him for several seconds. Reaching up with one hand, she cupped his face and stroked his cheek. “Because then you wouldn’t be Draco—you wouldn’t be giving me exactly what it is I need from you most. You’re not lacking, Draco. Not at all. You give me the best of what you have, and that’s perfect. And it’s the same for Severus and Lucius. Because of who they are, they give me something unique that would be ruined if they tried to be something they weren’t. It’s like a trio of instruments. The cello can’t be the violin, and it would be awful if it tried. But each one plays an important part that can’t be replaced. The song would seem wrong without them.”

Draco would have to consider that. It made sense and sounded much more pleasant than what he’d been thinking. And it gave him hope. Lucius might put on a good show, but what did he really have to offer? Not much. The old man was the complete opposite of everything Hermione stood for. He’d show his true colors sooner or later, and Hermione would turn to Draco for the love and care Lucius could never provide. That just left Snape. He was a much more complicated obstacle. Draco could see why she wanted him—they had a lot in common. But bloody fucking hell, the man was as warm as a blizzard. Draco would play his part in her trio until she saw the truth of the matter. “What instrument am I?”

She smiled. “Probably the violin.”

“What about me?” Snape said from the kitchen door.

Hermione looked over. “You’re the cello.”

“What’s Lucius?” he countered.

“I don’t know. I guess the piano.” 

Snape smirked. “Do you want some eggs, Miss Music? You can’t just have cereal. You need protein.”

“Uh . . . sure,” she answered. “Thank you.”

“Thank you _what_?” he said, suddenly sounding as if he was back in his classroom.

She blushed and looked away. “Thank you, sir.”

Draco arched an eyebrow. That was interesting.

“I’ll have your eggs done soon. Kiss Draco before he has a conniption, and I’ll call you when they’re ready.”

Hermione looked up at Draco with a hopeful smile. “Do you want to kiss me? I’ve just brushed my teeth.”

Draco smirked and trailed his fingers along her soft cheek. “You know I want to kiss you. And I always appreciate mint over bollock-flavored Hermione.”

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. The pain in his chest melted as she nipped and licked her way around his mouth. How could he ever give up such sweetness? She was exactly what he wanted. If Snape and Lucius intended to get in on this deal, they were going to have to queue up behind him. They could play second fiddler all they wanted, but he intended to be first chair when it came to love.

They snogged each other into oblivion for the next ten minutes. Every time her fingers stoked the back of his head and tugged on his hair, his balls drew higher, preparing for liftoff. And the more aroused he became, the less worried he was about the whole affair.

As long as she was kissing him, everything would be all right.

“Your eggs are ready, Miss Granger. Bring Draco with you to the table if you want to keep playing with him; but I’d better see your arse in that kitchen chair in the next twenty seconds. Do you understand me, young lady?”

Hermione pulled back from Draco with a smile. “Come sit with me while I eat?”

Malfoy glanced toward the door. “What the hell’s gotten into him? What did you two do last night?”

She grinned and popped up as if she were late for something. “I’ll explain later. Come on. I don’t want to earn another spanking. My bum is sore enough as it is.”

 _Really?_ “Can I see?”

Hermione laughed. “Yes! After breakfast.”

“Just a peek now?”

“No! You’re trying to get me in trouble. I’m out of here.” She kissed his forehead and scurried off toward the kitchen, almost clipping a groggy Crookshanks in her haste.

It took Draco a minute to get his cock calm enough for safe standing. While his dick deflated, he contemplated the meaning of that eager smile on her face. She’d appeared just as ecstatic to kiss him on the couch as she had when Snape told her to get in the kitchen. Draco wasn’t sure what that meant yet, but he liked seeing that happy light dancing in her eyes. Maybe his godfather was an ally in all this.

“Come on, Draco,” she called from the kitchen. “Snape says you can check out my arse while I eat.”

Draco’s brow quirked. Hmmmm. An ally indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dissonance: Harsh, discordant, and lack of harmony. Also a chord that sounds incomplete until it resolves itself on a harmonious chord.
> 
> "The Trouble With Love Is" by Kelly Clarkson. Written by Kelly Clarkson, Even Rogers, and Carl Sturken. Released 2005. The song was featured in the Christmas romcom, Love Actually (costarring the illustrious Alan Rickman) and the video depicts Clarkson atop a building with clips of the movie interspersed throughout.  
> [](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ICwfXGjVeXw<https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ICwfXGjVeXw</a)


	25. Consonance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well. Crap. That took longer than planned. But I've got two chapters ready for you all--and they're not particularly short. (I'll post 26 either tomorrow or the next day.) Chapter 27 isn't terribly long, but I have to rewrite it, so I'm not sure how long it's going to take me to finish. (Fingers crossed for quickness.)

25—Consonance

“We've only just begun.”—Carpenters

(Hermione) 

Hermione rocked her hips into Draco, rubbing her overeager clit against the stiff swelling of his erection. It would be better naked, but the flap of his placket _was_ being rather helpful. Dry humping on her couch wasn’t exactly what she’d had planned for the day, but all in all she couldn’t complain. Draco wasn’t complaining either—but he might when he got a look at his hair. It was fluffed up like a duck’s bum at the back where his head had been rubbing against the arm of the couch for the past hour. Despite his disheveled appearance, she’d never seen him happier.

They’d been snogging since Snape left that morning, wrapped around each other on the couch like two lovebirds, and he’d kept her snugly cocooned in his arms all through lunch. And then dinner. The man was an affection junkie. But to be fair, she was enabling him, supplying him with enough cuddles to give them both a fix. There was a sense of peace with Draco, a calm that pervaded even their most passionate encounters. She felt safe with him. Perhaps that was due to their preexisting friendship, but she had a niggling suspicion that it was something more. Some people just made her feel a certain way when she was with them, whether it was calm or excited or clever or tired. Draco made her feel a great many things, but under it all was a current of contentment.

She wasn’t sure yet what Lucius and Severus made her feel. Wet, certainly, but there was more to it than that. Oddly, she felt safe with all of them despite their controversial pasts. She could logic out her trust in Snape—he’d proven himself an honorable man over the years—but Lucius was almost a stranger to her. And yet she felt she knew him in ways others didn’t. She understood him. He wasn’t all haughty sneers and supercilious mannerisms.

Just like Snape wasn’t all snide comments and billowing black robes. There was a tempest of intrigue howling just below his cool façade. He was constantly analyzing and observing, piecing her together like a jigsaw puzzle. She knew he must have been invading her mind to have pinpointed her desires with such accuracy, but she couldn’t deny how marvelous it had been having someone give her exactly what she wanted. He seemed to genuinely share her sexual tastes, and she found his easy acceptance of her kinks reassuring. 

Plus the man had the dexterity of an artist and concert pianist rolled into one. Her own fingers had never been so deliciously insistent. He’d managed to work her arse up to two thick digits by the end of the night, and when he had her bum at its breaking point, he’d slipped his cock up her cunt and gotten her to make sounds she didn’t know humans were capable of producing. She’d come three times in half an hour, and Snape had clearly been amused by her raging arousal; or at least she assumed that’s what had inspired his jovial mood. She’d never heard him chuckle for such an extended stretch. It was heartening to know she’d exposed him to some fun—even if he denied its existence in his life.

And she’d spotted that smirk on his face at breakfast too, so she’d brightened his spirits whether he wanted to admit it or not. Although, he might have just been laughing at her. She _had_ been moaning pretty loudly. But how was she supposed to eat quietly with Draco licking the sting out of her belt marks? Bent-over breakfast was far more satisfying than the common sit-down she usually had.

Draco—darling, sweet Draco. She couldn't stop replaying his confession in her mind. He really wanted her. It wasn’t just the sex. She’d been too afraid to believe there could be something more between them, but now that he’d made his intentions clear, she’d done a complete one eighty, embracing all his subtle displays of affection and returning them with heartwarming vigor.

Their giddy back and forth that day had shifted Draco’s attitude in the most unexpected ways. By the time breakfast was over, he seemed completely at ease. She’d been expecting at least a modicum of tension from him after the upheaval of that morning’s revelation, but instead, the catharsis of confession seemed to have set him free. And she felt it too. There was a thread of understanding stitching them together. He wanted her, and she wanted him. It couldn’t have been more simple.

And yet so complex.

While she felt closer to Draco than ever before, it hadn’t diminished her attraction to Severus or Lucius; and she found that both interesting and disturbing. Didn’t she want to be happy with Draco? She knew she did. Seeing him so caught up in the joy of shared devotion made her heart sing. It filled up a hole in her chest she hadn’t realized was empty.

What more did she need?

Apparently the answer was Snape and Lucius, because she was feeling some extraordinarily similar things for both of them. She wanted to see Severus smile again; she wanted to share and discuss and roll around in his thoughts. There was so much she hoped to discover about her formerly laconic professor. And Lucius . . . he had only recently begun to open up. He had so much to give, so much care and passion just idling behind a thin veneer of haughty control. She loved bringing out his softer side and seeing that million watt smile steal the sneer from his lips.

And she loved acting as the catalyst in that Slytherin medley. She wanted to be the cause of Snape’s laughter and pleasure, and she longed for those moments of blissful honesty that cropped up between her and Lucius.

And Draco—that boy would be her undoing. When she thought back on all the animosity of their school days and the difficulties they’d overcome to wind up where they were, all she could think about was how far Draco had come, how much he had changed. How much he wanted to be loved. If she dwelt on it for too long, tears would sting the backs of her eyes, and she’d have to blink like a maniac to stave them off. He was living proof that so much of a man lay beneath the surface. Five years earlier she never would have guessed he possessed such depth. Now here she was, locked against him, heart to heart, snogging him for all she was worth. And it was glorious. His happy growls and sighs made her heart skip a beat.

Carding her fingers through his hair, she stroked his head, hoping to draw another needy whine from his sinfully sweet mouth. Draco’s demonstrative sound effects were the most perfect soundtrack for a day of snogging.

_Tap tap tap._

What was that noise?

 _Tap tap tap tap tap_.

Hermione lifted her lips from Draco’s and gave him a curious look. Did he hear that or was her brain rapping on her skull for more oxygen?

Draco’s pink lips were swollen, and his eyes, usually so light and calm, were dark with desire. But his expression was just as perplexed as her own. “Was that Crookshanks?” he panted.

Hermione turned her head and looked around. Crooks didn’t tap; he did the opposite, padding around the flat on silent paws.

 _Taptaptaptaptap_.

Ah-ha! She recognized the sound now that Draco had stopped whimpering. “It’s an owl. Hold on.”

She pecked his lips and peeled her body from his then stumbled to the door on snog-wobbly legs. When she pulled it open, a handsome eagle owl peered up at her and then hopped over the threshold.

“Wolfgang?” Draco sputtered, sitting up with a start. He winced and adjusted his bulging crotch. “What are you doing here? That’s Father’s business owl.”

The bird spread its wings and relocated to the arm of the couch, holding out one leg to Hermione.

She gave Draco a searching look before taking the scroll from the bird’s outstretched talon. Scanning the note quickly, she read out loud: “Dear Hermione, Severus is here, and we both think it would be prudent to sit down for a chat. We’ll have drinks in the library at 8:00. I know Draco is there with you, so tell him to take you to dinner and then bring you here. I look forward to seeing you again—and the library misses you. Until tonight, Lucius.”

Draco shook his head and clucked his tongue in a tsk of reproach. “Mmmmmmm, you’re in trooooouble.”

Hermione widened her eyes at him in disbelief. “What?”

His swollen lips curled into a small smile. “Severus told him everything. He knows you’ve been seeing all of us, and he knows I told you I want to date you. He has to recalibrate, plan a new mode of attack, step up his game.”

“Are you serious?” Being a Slytherin sounded exhausting. “How does that make me in trouble?”

“Target acquired,” he replied with a grin. “If he isn’t angry enough to stop seeing you—which it appears he isn’t—then you’re about to become the focus of his most assiduous efforts. If there’s one thing the Malfoy men are known for, it’s going after what they want.”

“Should I decline?” She didn’t know if it was a good idea to throw them all into the same room if Mr. Malfoy was on the romance warpath. Maybe they should postpone any meetings until everyone had had time to cool off.

“Oh, we definitely need to go,” Draco said, pushing a quill across the table to her. “I can’t wait to see his smug face when we show up hand in hand.”

Hermione smirked and shook her head. “That’s a bit cold, don’t you think? I don’t want to hurt anyone with all this.”

“No, no, no,” Draco continued, his smile never faltering. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s a wizard thing. I just need to show him that I’m not out of the running. He’ll finally have to admit I succeeded in at least one area.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered, “Boys” under her breath, but she picked up the quill and penned a quick “We’ll be there.” at the bottom of the parchment and passed it back to Wolfgang.

The owl spread its wings, and Hermione rushed to open the door. With a distinguished “hoo” of farewell, the bird disappeared into the setting sun.

Hermione closed the door and looked back at Draco. “That only gives us a little over an hour. Do you want to help me get ready? I have to do my hair and makeup if I want to look nice.”

“Will you be naked?”

She snickered. “Sure. Are you going to keep me company?”

“But of course, my lady. I’ll even help you prepare.”

That was generous of him. Or suspicious. Hermione studied his face, searching for a clue as to which. “How?”

His smile stretched to a leer, and with a tilt of his head, he motioned for her to come closer.

Sputtering out a giggle at the playful light in his eyes, Hermione took several confident steps forward until she was knee to knee with him, daring him to make a move.

Draco leaned forward and rested a hand on each of her hips. When he pulled her in, she had a flashback of Severus doing the same thing; but Draco had none of Snape’s forcefulness or demand. Draco was all smooth strokes and slow maneuvering. Steady. Calm. His hands flowed down her flanks, drawing her pajamas to the floor in a whisper of cotton.

In spite of the sudden draft, a heated tide washed over her body, and she knew she was blushing. Listing toward him, Hermione snaked one arm around Draco’s shoulders and hugged him to her chest. Draco growled and pressed his mouth into the valley between her breasts; his warm breath seeped through her T-shirt, and her nipples sprang into action as if they’d been dipped in ice water.

His hands crept under her top, and his palms drifted softly up her sides. Twisting his head to the right, he kissed a hungry path to her nipple, inching toward it with a sexual stealth that stole her breath away. The physical anticipation was unbearable, but the heady rush of having him in her arms was even more maddening. Raking her fingers through his hair, she reveled in the sublime silkiness that was Draco Malfoy. There wasn’t a single part of him that wasn’t a textural dream. His mouth was all steamed velvet, and his tongue was slick as satin. The pale skin stretched over his lean frame was softer than her own. And his cock—unh! Every time she uncovered that lustrous staff, she had the urge to rub his petal-soft glans all over her face like a blush brush.

Leaving her thin cotton tee to act as an infuriating barrier between them, Draco wrapped his lips around her nipple and sucked her into his mouth. Hermione gasped and arched into him, hissing as his teeth caught the tip. Pausing just long enough to lift her shirt, Draco swiftly uncovered her tits and switched sides. The sharp edges of his incisors framed her areola and provided a sensorial juxtaposition to the wet cradle of his tongue. He swirled around the stiff protrusion, teasing its perimeter before swiping over the peak.

“Draco!” She clutched at his shoulders. Standing wasn't sensible if he was going to do things like that.

He chuckled and flashed her a furtive smile. “Arms up.”

Arms up? It took several seconds for her brain to process the meaning of those words. Lifting her hands in the air, she looked to him for further advice.

Draco stood, and as he did so, he pulled her top over her head, leaving her stark naked in the living room. She shivered, and a swath of gooseflesh tattooed her flesh.

“There,” he declared cheekily. “You’re ready to go.”

Hermione grabbed him by the belt and yanked him forward.

Snickering, Draco hugged her and leaned down to look in her eyes. “Did you like that?”

“You’re very helpful,” she replied wryly.

“Draco Malfoy, professional undresser at your service,” he murmured with a roguish grin.

She shook her head, a chagrined smile skipping over her lips. Surely he could smell how wet his little game had gotten her; Hermione clamped her thighs together to staunch the scent. Was this her life now, just constantly marinating in her own juices? That wasn’t all bad, but it was a bit embarrassing to realize she had the hair-trigger arousal of a fourteen year old boy. Grabbing his hand, she tugged him toward the bathroom and gave his trousers a quick glance to make sure he was equally affected.

He was.

She liked that about Draco; his ceaseless excitement made her feel less self-conscious about her own libido.

In the bathroom, Hermione gestured for Draco to take a seat as she began to set out her things. Draco made himself comfortable on the floor, sprawling out with his arms spanning the lip of the tub like an emperor in a bathhouse. Crookshanks wandered in and stretched out next to him, purring loudly when Draco scratched his head. Hermione smiled at the cozy tableau they presented in the mirror’s reflection.

Draco idly chatted with her as she applied her make up and twisted her hair into a nice chignon. She was grateful for his company; if he hadn’t been there, she would have been psyching herself out, worrying about what might be said at their little get together.

Inspecting her smoky eye shadow, Hermione assessed her appearance. She didn’t usually go to so much trouble, but this was one instance where she definitely didn't want to look like one of the guys. Appearances could be distracting, and she needed all the extra leverage she could get if she was going to go toe to toe with Lucius and Severus.

After pinning her hair into place, she turned to Draco. “Which do men prefer, lipstick or gloss?”

“That depends on what you’re wearing.”

“My little black dress.”

“In that case, red lipstick.”

“Red? Don’t you think that’s a bit too . . . slattern?”

Draco grinned and shook his head. “I guarantee you they’ll both be dying to smear it in the most lascivious manner possible.”

Hermione snorted and picked up her tube of _Crimson Consort_. “Well best of luck to them. It’s Weekend Witch’s Twelve Hour Staying Power formula, and I can’t even scrub it off with a flannel.”

He watched her closely as she applied it, and she saw him adjusting himself in the mirror’s reflection. That was just the confidence boost she needed. 

When her lips were a shiny dark red, she stood back to gauge her clownishness. “How’s that?”

“I want to stick my cock in your mouth.”

Hermione snorted. “I have to let it set for a minute. Let’s go find my clothes.” 

“Do we have to?” he asked, heaving himself of the floor and following after her. “I'm sure you won't need them.”

Hermione went to her dresser, where she perused her selection of underwear. Draco sidled up behind her and slipped his hands around her waist, pulling her back against his bulge. The heat of his erection had baked his crotch so it felt as if his trousers had just come out of the dryer. He worked his length between her bare cheeks and lightly buffed the crack of her arse.

Hermione smiled and tipped back her head to rest under his chin. “What do you think, suspender belt again?”

“Father likes it.”

“What about you?”

He hummed indecisively and ducked down to lick behind her ear. “I like you naked.”

“Naked is not an option.” She giggled as his tongue caressed the nape of her neck. “What do you think Snape likes?”

“I have no idea. Bruised bums and black lace?”

“I’ve got both of those covered. What do you think of seams?” she asked, picking out a pair of nude seamed stockings.

“Sexy.” He sealed his mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder and swirled his tongue over her skin.

“Stooooop,” she groaned with a playful swat to the top of his head. “You’re making my pussy leak all over my legs.”

“Good.” His grunted reply breezed over the damp path he’d left at her throat. Hermione’s knees went soggy, and she had to clutch the dresser to stay vertical

“I’m wet enough as it is.” She waved toward the wardrobe. “Would you get my shoes for me?” Gods, she needed to keep him distracted or they’d never make it there on time.

“Which ones?”

“The black heels. I only have one pair.”

With a lingering brush of his fingertips, he released her and headed toward the wardrobe. Draco got down on the floor and searched the shadowy depths while Hermione wiggled into her garter belt. She sat on the bed to roll on her stockings, and when Draco found her shoes, he crawled over with her pumps between his teeth and set them at her feet like a puppy with a pair of slippers.

Laughing, Hermione spread her legs and gave him a x-rated sneak peek. With a mutinous growl, he lunged forward, diving in tongue first. Hermione squealed and held him back with one hand to the top of the head. “Whoa! Hold your horses. I need the loo first. My bladder’s about to burst. And I’d better charm my arse clean while I’m in there, because Merlin only knows what Snape might do to me later.”

Draco stuck out his lower lip and gave her sad puppy eyes with a pleading whimper to match.

Hermione bent down to kiss nose. “But I was thinking when I come back, maybe you could test my pussy to make sure it’s ready to go. Would you like that?”

His gaze lit with a ravenous light, and he nodded forcefully.

“But first I need you to check my seams for me,” she said, rising smoothly and turning her back to him so her bum bumped his lips. “Are they straight?”

A whine of appreciation echoed against her right cheek, and she felt the nip of his teeth sinking into her rump. Muffy began to overflow, and the slippery tickle of fresh juice slid past her labia. Locking her jaw and hissing softly, Hermione reached back to stop him. “Be good. We have to leave soon.”

A gentle kiss soothed the tingling bite mark, and Draco wrapped his hands around her left ankle. “You look absolutely delicious tonight, miss,” he murmured, straightening her stockings as he climbed her calf.

Hermione mashed her lips together to keep from laughing. Miss? So that was what he wanted to play. “Thank you, Draco.” She wracked her brain to come up with something appropriate for the situation, but couldn’t think straight with his fingers wandering up her inner thigh.

He started on the other leg, and Hermione shifted her weight to the opposite foot before peeking over her shoulder. He was staring at her bum like a bird dog tracking a quail, his eyes only darting down to check the alignment of her seams. The devoted longing in his gaze melted her heart as much as her pussy.

“How’s it look?” she asked quietly.

His eyes shot up to hers, and he grinned mischievously. “Perfect.”

“Thank you, love. I want you to wait right here for me. I’ll be back in just a minute.” She lowered her voice to a husky whisper. “Take out your cock and start stroking. Slowly. I want to see you teasing yourself when I get back.”

His eyes went wide, and she could see she’d surprised him. A momentary flare of panic left her wondering when he would start laughing at her false bravado.

Her panic was instantaneously snuffed out when he ripped open his flies and groaned out a breathy, “Yes, miss.”

His prick was stiff and red, almost visibly throbbing. Hermione swallowed hard and licked her lips. Damn. How had her own game circled back and bit her in the clit? Having Draco kneeling at her feet with his hand gliding up and down his length, looking like a exclusive centerfold for Bad Boys and Big Brooms, was like living out her most naughty dreams. Here was one of the hottest men she knew, a wizard who could have almost any witch he desired, and he wanted nothing more than to have her command his wanking schedule with the authority of a sexual drill sergeant.

It thrilled her to see him so responsive. She’d never fancied herself a dominant woman in bed, but since their foray into FemDom, she’d found her fantasies wading into increasingly assertive waters. It was a rush to see the desire take hold and melt Draco into a puddle of happy abandon.

And she knew that freedom he felt. She’d swum in its comforting waters only the night before, giving Snape her humiliation and shame in exchange for assurance and praise.

For understanding.

“Don’t you dare come without me.”

He smiled. “Yes, miss.”

Snagging her bra on the way out the door, she hurried to the bathroom, eager to finish getting ready and return for another helping of Draco. After emptying her bladder, she cast the enema charm on herself. Its minty slipstream didn’t surprise her that time, but in her hyper-aroused state, she almost came all over the bathmat as the magic jettisoned through her bowels.

Bloody hell. Snape and Lucius were going to smell her arrival from a mile away.

 _Or I could just have Draco clean me up with his tongue before we go_. She grinned at the mirror and quickly strapped herself into her bra. Draco wouldn’t like that she was covering up the girls, but she had to get things moving; if it were up to him, she’d show up at the manor without a stitch. And while she wasn’t totally against that idea, she didn’t think jumping in with both boobs blazing was the right tactic to take when she didn’t know what kind of mood Lucius would be in.

Dashing back to her room, she found Draco just as she’d left him, his trousers open, weeping cock in his fist. His grey eyes met hers, and she smiled at the intensity in his gaze. “Good boy.”

His stroking sped up.

“Look how hard you are,” she purred.

“I need you, miss.”

His solemn plea tugged at her heartstrings. Running her hand over his hair , Hermione gently tipped back his head and pecked his lips. “Do you think you can get me nice and wet for our date?”

“Yes, miss,” he whispered.

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed and let one leg fall to the side, drawing his attention south. His eyes dropped to the apex of her thighs, and with a rough grunt, he grasped his glans, locking it in a death grip to hold back his release. Draco certainly knew how to compliment a girl.  “Lick me, love. Show me what you’ve got.”

In a bolt of blond, he was on her, his pretty face burrowing into her bush, his hands spreading her thighs, baring her in all her knickerless glory. His tongue lapped at her clit and then swiped up her slit with the agility of a sexual serpent. He groaned loudly, and the sound echoed through her pelvis.

“Yes,” she hissed, gripping a hank of his silky hair in her clenched fingers. “Right there.”

The firmer she tugged, the louder his growls. She didn’t want to hurt him, but he really seemed to get off on the manhandling. Leaning back on one elbow, she gave him more access, pulling up her knees for maximum exposure.

He took full advantage.

Hermione cried out as his tongue shot up her twat—a bizarrely soft invasion of slick muscle and rigid demand. He was intent on scooping out her honey at the source, gorging on her canal like a diabetic grizzly ferreting out the last drips of sugar from a honeycomb. No one should have a tongue that dexterous.

Sucking her labia with an audible slurp, Draco slid up and down her slit, pulling at her entire vulva until the blood rushed to her lower lips with a tingling warmth. His mouth sealed over her clit, and she almost arched off the bed as he drew a throb of pulsation from the little nubbin.

“Ahhh!”

He glanced up at her, the corners of his eyes lifting in what was surely a wolfish smile. She couldn’t be sure with his mouth hidden in her muff.

Hermione rocked her hips toward his face. “Make me come, love.”

With a rumbly growl of agreement, he reapplied himself to her pleasure, focusing on the fleshy hood of her clitoris with flickery determination.

Two slender fingers sneaked into her leaking sheath, and Hermione whimpered at the added stimulation. His fingertips curled against her g-spot and beckoned her orgasm closer.

“Oh gods,” she whispered, her teeth sinking into her lower lip to keep from wailing. “Gonna come. Don’t stop.”

Draco whined into her folds, and for some reason that relaxed her beyond reason. Her pussy took its cue and exploded in a convulsion of release, wracking her belly with waves of bliss and shooting what felt like a pint of juice from her oversaturated core.

Draco gradually slowed his ministrations to a peaceful stop and kissed her clit as if to reassure it it had done a good job. When he leaned back, his chin was streaked with her nectar, and a thin line of cream lined his upper lip. His tongue snaked out to lick it away, and Hermione almost collapsed on the bed, knocked out by the sublimely erotic image of him devouring her desire with his pink tongue.

“Are you ready to come for me?” Hermione murmured, blinking slowly as her brain came back on board.

He nodded tightly and glanced down at his lap.

Hermione sat up and saw that his erection hadn’t abated in the slightest. It was red and stiff, practically glowing with pent up frustration. She was struck by a brilliant idea, and when he saw her sneaky smile, his lips curved into a matching grin.

“What?” he asked.

“I was just thinking,” she said, tipping her head to one side with a ingenuous innocence, “that since you’re wearing my . . . _scent_ , it would only be polite for me to wear yours in return.”

Draco was on his feet and wanking in the blink of an eye. “Make sure you stand close enough to father so he can smell it. Gods, you’re bloody brilliant.”

Hermione stared at the gleaming tip of his glans, hypnotized by its promising shine. _Sooooo pretty_. The angry heat of his engorged head could be felt at a distance, and she had the urge to warm herself in front of it like a bluebell flame. His hand was a blur, the fap of pumping foreskin gloriously loud.

Holding up her breasts in both hands, she gave him a backsplash she knew he'd appreciate. Draco groaned and stepped closer, grazing the tops of her tits with the damp drip of his meatus. Hermione was on the verge of swooning, her skin prickling with feverish expectancy. What the hell was happening to her? Before her involvement with the three Slytherins, she’d never once longed for the viscous reward of a semen shower. She used to vanish all slimy leftovers as soon as humanly possible—but now she couldn’t get enough. Was it because she actually enjoyed being with them? Did that render their jizz innocuous? Or was it their ardent desire that changed her mentality from one of obligation to delight?

She didn’t know, and at the moment, she didn’t care. She wanted that cum. It was hers.

Peering up at Draco from beneath her lashes, Hermione surreptitiously watched the taut concentration play over his features. His eyes were fastened on her chest, his mouth parted in slack awe. Peeling down the cups of her bra with the tips of her fingers, Hermione uncovered her pebbled nipples for his viewing pleasure. “Come all over me, Draco. Make me yours.”

His breathing stuttered out in a jagged exhale, and with no warning, the first creamy streamer drifted across her breast.

“Fuck!” Draco gasped in the momentary pause between surges.

Hermione looked down as a second ribbon crossed the first and dripped down the crevice she’d created with her cleavage. She inhaled deeply, breathing him in, and with the expansion of her chest, she ensured contact between her skin and his.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” he hissed through his teeth.

Hermione smiled as the last three milky gushes spilled over her pert nipple, glazing her in his relief. The sticky spatter left her giddy with triumph. 

Draco let out a final deep breath and swallowed hard. “Bloody hell, Hermione. Remind me to never hold it in for an entire day ever again. That was painful.”

“But look how much you made for me,” she said cheerfully and gestured at the ample results.

With a tired snicker, Draco nodded. “Yes, I see. Were we going for coverage?”

Hermione smeared his seed into her chest with a happy affirmative, “Most certainly. I want it to last.”

Draco bent down to kiss her forehead, his warm lips on her hairline. “That’s another thing I like about you—you’re very economical.”

Hermione laughed and pecked his lips. “And I smell bloody amazing. No need for perfume.”

Chuckling under his breath, Draco glanced at the clock on her bedside table. “It’s ten till.”

Damn. Her semen massage would have to be cut short. Hermione rubbed the remaining cream into her skin and then sniffed her hands. She smelled like a laundry hamper in a boy’s dormitory. But she also smelled like Draco, his presence lingering, providing a protective coating for her heart.

When Draco went to tuck away his cock, she stopped him and did it herself. He was like wrinkled satin in her hand, his prick having sunk to half mast in the aftermath of their “ablutions.” After she zipped him up, she kissed his placket and whispered, “See you later.”

With a smile, Draco gave her his hand and escorted from the bed to the bureau, where he got her dress for her and then helped her into it. Hermione had never had any assistance in such matters, but she found his service invaluable. As he did up her zip, his lips touched her neck, and the confirmation of his adoration wrapped her in a warm glow of contentment.

Grazing his cheek with the backs of her fingers, she silently thanked him for the care. He grinned and caught her hand in his, lifting it to his mouth.

“We should go,” she murmured, pressing her body to his. 

“Don’t want to be late,” he agreed. “I know how much you enjoy punctuality.”

Hermione rolled up onto her toes to give him one more kiss. “You know me too well.”

They both said a quick farewell to Crookshanks as they headed to the front door, and once they were out in the street, Draco’s arm around her shoulders, Hermione felt the first stirrings of apprehension growing in her gut.

What on earth was she supposed to say once she had them all together? It had been hard enough explaining things to Draco that morning. She didn’t know if she could go through that again.

Creeping into the nearest alleyway, Draco offered to Apparate them both, and Hermione jumped at the chance. Apparition was so much more pleasant with a cock wedged against her belly. When he told her to hold on tight, she grabbed his arse and gave him an expectant smile. Draco’s snickering was cut short by the pressurized pop of relocation.

They reappeared outside the manor’s lavish gate, and Draco called out the password, weaving his fingers between hers and squeezing her hand reassuringly. Hermione leaned into him to absorb some of his calm as they made their way along the curving drive. The dull click of her heels on the cobblestone sounded like a ticking bomb to her anxious ears. What if Lucius wasn’t as easygoing as Severus?

 _Did I really just think that?_ She never thought she’d be labeling Snape as easygoing—but he _was_ rather accepting for such a saturnine man. Although, that acceptance seemed to be limited to her predilections. The cynical snark evinced throughout his teaching career was still intact. She wished she could bring out the chuckly-sex-Snape that she’d met the night before and integrate him into the other areas of his life. He seemed so much more happy when he was naked.

Maybe she should try giving him a bit more affection, the way she did with Draco. The two were as different as night and day when it came to cuddling, but she’d noticed how quiet Snape been when her attentions became tender. He didn’t flinch or pull away, but he’d freeze as if he didn’t quite know how to proceed. When he’d announced his imminent departure that morning, Hermione had thrown her arms around his waist and hugged him goodbye; his arms had remained limp at his sides, and then, just as she released him, he patted her back with a stilted awkwardness. Hermione didn’t take it personally; she’d obviously caught him off guard. And once she gave it some thought, she realized he probably wasn't used to people hugging him goodbye. Or at all.

A pat on the back was probably more than she should have expected.

And she was definitely delusional for hoping he might kiss her. While he’d been perfectly respectful and, dare she say it, kind, he’d made no move to lock lips during their night together. Hermione didn’t know if he was averse to snogging or if he just thought she wasn’t up for it. Although how could a Legillimens not know she wanted it? That didn’t seem probable. And it couldn’t be that he didn’t fancy a good snog—she distinctly remembered the way he’d sucked the air out Lucius’s lungs that first night in the library. It didn’t seem wise to point out his kissing contradiction; she didn’t want to try his patience or make him uncomfortable.

Especially not after that brain-melting talk they’d had the night before, the post-coital aftermath freeing their tongues and opening their minds until her issue of _Potion-Maker’s Monthly_ had been eviscerated by his cutting critique and her Socratic perambulations.

She’d fallen asleep to the sound of his groggy baritone voice espousing the virtues of platinum cauldrons and wondering if the apothecary still had those beetle wings on sale. Accordingly, her dreams had followed suit, weaving together her favorite Potions master with an increasingly erotic series of vignettes involving some extremely naughty brewing. Laboratory spankings sounded so much more sane in her dreams.

She couldn’t give up all that because of a simple lack of kissing.

Besides, Draco and Lucius kept her lips plenty busy—she should start focusing on what she had rather than what was missing.

Hermione smiled at Draco as he opened the front door and led her inside. They’d made it to the house without the plaintive cries of the peacocks to set her on edge, which was a blessing, because she was already on the verge of jumping out of her skin.

Draco took the direct route to the library, following the main corridors rather than taking the shortcut through the rooms to enter through the side door. She considered suggesting the more clandestine approach, but she knew that was just her nerves talking.

Draco must have sensed no need for such cunning. He opened the door and led her in without pretense. Mr. Malfoy was pouring drinks by the little table near the window, and Severus was sitting on the couch, drink already in hand. They both looked up as Hermione and Draco entered the room, and Lucius actually smiled at her.

“Miss Granger,” he said as he finished pouring his glass of champagne. “Right on time.”

Hermione was shocked they both looked so damn relaxed. Lucius didn’t seem upset at all, his eyes only stalling briefly on their joined hands. Had she been worried for nothing? 

With an infinitesimal tip of his head, Severus motioned for her to come to him.

Hermione looked up at Draco to make sure he was all right, but she’d needn’t have worried. 

He grinned at her and whispered, “You’d better get moving, young lady. I know you don’t want another spanking with all those welts on your arse.”

Her cheeks went hot, but she couldn’t help smiling. When she lifted up on her tiptoes she could just reach his chin, but he bent down and met her lips with a peck—possibly for luck.

Knees wobbling, she made her way to Snape’s side and Draco slid into the chair that sat at a right angle to the sofa, its green leather the perfect choice for a Slytherin library. She was relieved he was staying so close. It wasn’t that she was scared of Snape, it was just that the night was brimming with uncertainty, and she had no idea what might come next. Draco was a good man to have in her corner.

“Lift you skirt,” Severus drawled.

Hermione clamped her legs together to keep her pussy from dripping down her leg. “What? Right now?”

“I want Lucius to see your arse. Lift your skirt to your waist.”

She glanced over her shoulder at Draco, but he just flashed her a snakey smile.

“Are you hesitating?” Severus asked in a low voice.

“No, sir,” she assured him and drew up her skirt as fast as she could.

The room felt far too drafty with that much skin on display. Everyone was staring, eyeballing her naked mound and smirking as if amused by her lack of knickers. And Draco must have had a damn good view of her arse. All he had to do was lean to the left.

Snape’s black eyes were focused on the vee of curls between her legs, and she knew he could see how wet Draco had left her.

“Turn around,” Severus muttered. “Show Lucius your marks.”

Hermione spun around to escape his knowing gaze, but mid-spin she felt the telltale tickle of juicy spillage leaking from her labia. Shifting nervously from heel to heel, she wondered how Muffy had gotten so worked up in such a short amount of time. Draco had licked her clean back at the flat, but she was already swimming in her own lubrication.

Lucius set a glass of champagne on the table for her and took his usual seat to her right. “Oh, this is lovely, Severus.”

She felt his hand on her arse, his smooth fingers gliding over the banded lines traversing her cheeks.

“I don’t know if I like her better marked or unmarked. This does look nice with the stockings though, doesn't it?”

“Yes,” Severus murmured, patting her other cheek. “Bend over so he can see everything.”

Swallowing hard, Hermione slowly leaned forward and braced her hands on the coffee table.

“Legs apart,” Severus chided. “You know better than that.”

_Well I was trying to keep the carpet dry . . . but if you insist._

"Merlin's beard,” Lucius muttered. “Look at that pussy.”

Severus slid his hand between her thighs and brushed a finger over her furrow. After their night together, she’d recognize that finger anywhere. The edges of his joints were calloused from working in the lab, and he touched her with a possessiveness that was unique amongst those gathered.

“Why are your thighs all wet, Miss Granger?”

Her eyes shot over to Draco, who was still sporting that same diabolical grin. _Shit_. Should she tell the truth? Would that piss off Lucius? Or would Snape be more pissed off if she lied? “Uh . . . because Draco made me come before we left my flat.”

“What a gentleman,” Snape commented dryly. “How did he make you come?”

“He licked me, sir.”

Severus wiggled his finger over her clit, and she arched her back for more.

“All right. Sit down. We need to discuss some things.”

Hermione heaved out a shaky sigh and stood up, feeling for the edge of her skirt to pull it back into place.

“No,” Severus growled. “Did I say you could cover yourself?”

“I thought I came here to talk.”

“You can talk with your skirt around your waist. Sit _down_.”

 _Mm! Yes, sir!_ If his voice got any darker, her clit was going to spontaneously combust. She took the spot between them, but as soon as her arse touched down she felt something wriggling into the slick seam of her pussy. Jumping up in shock, she discovered Snape’s hand on her seat, his fingers glistening with her excitement. When she gave him her most exasperated huff, he simply arched one eyebrow and waggled the digits in a suggestive wave.

“I said sit down, Miss Granger. This is your last chance.”

“You could have warned me,” she said in her primmest tone. When she took her seat again, his middle finger slipped between her lips and eased inside. The squirming it elicited did nothing to assuage her rising damp. If anything, it made it worse.

Lucius chuckled and placed a hand on her knee. “That flush creeping down your chest is quite becoming.”

Hermione smiled and looked away. “Thank you, sir.”

Lucius pulled her knee toward him, spreading her legs as if arranging her into a more comfortable position. “I asked you over to discuss our . . . situation. I take it you’ve been seeing all three of us since our last foursome?”

Hermione bit her lips into a tight line and nodded.

His hand began a slow ascent of her thigh. “And what outcome were you hoping to achieve with such an arrangement?” 

Staring at his hand, she whispered, “I honestly don’t know, sir. I . . . I just like spending time with each of you.”

“So you’re not dating Draco?”

“Um . . .” She glanced at Draco. “I’m very close to Draco, and I would like to date him. But if you mean do I want to date him to the exclusion of you and Severus, the answer is no.”

Draco must have found that answer satisfactory. He looked pleased that she’d announced to everyone that she wanted to date him. 

Lucius trailed up to the sensitive skin at the juncture of her leg, his fingers brushing the subtle line separating thigh from pelvis. “So basically, you want to date all of us?”

Oh gods. Was that wrong? It sounded wrong—but oh so right. “I guess you could put it that way.”

“Did you think we wouldn’t find out about one another?”

“No!” She emphatically shook her head. “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, but I wasn’t trying to sneak around. I just didn’t know how any of you felt about me, so I thought I should wait to see where things went.”

“Do you want to stop sleeping with us as a group?”

“No!”

He smirked. “Is the sex all you want from us?”

She met his grey gaze, searching for a sign that it was safe to admit she wanted more. “No?”

“What _do_ you want?” His index finger drew a slow circle over her plumping pussy lips, tracing her slit with all the pressure of a butterfly’s wings, which made it difficult for her to articulate her desires. 

“I want . . . uuuh . . . I just want you all to be yourselves.”

Lucius nodded as if turning that over in his mind. “Do you want me to be rougher? I can dominate you the way Severus does if that’s what turns you on.”

Snape's fingers curled through her folds, and she almost leapt to the ceiling. Once she caught her breath, she tried to explain, “You do dominate me, you just do it differently than Severus. You turn me on just the way you are. I’d prefer it if you kept doing things the way you’ve been doing them.”

The corner of his mouth curled in a cocky, but relieved, smirk. “So how are we going to handle this? Will we only be allowed to see you on certain nights?”

Hermione couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You mean . . . you don’t mind me seeing all of you? It doesn’t bother you?”

Lucius gave Severus a measured look, and Hermione knew instantly that Severus had said something, something that had mellowed Malfoy’s jealousy.

Lucius licked his lips and inclined his head in a congenial bow of agreement. “For now it seems to be the most logical plan. I’m used to sharing with Severus, so that’s not a point of contention. I am not, however,  used to sharing with my son, but”—he paused to chose his words—”I don’t wish to put a strain on your friendship. I can live with it.”

Hermione looked over at Severus, but his stoic face betrayed no additional information. Turning back to Lucius, she studied his steely grey eyes. There was a hint of Draco there, but where Draco made her feel waves of calm care, Lucius made her feel as if she belonged wrapped in his arms. The hardness in his eye softened, and she glimpsed a whole new layer—the Lucius beneath the stoney exterior. “What if I wind up feeling more for one of you? I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Lucius glanced at Severus before answering.

She knew that look. It was the same look Harry gave her when they had to go to a war memorial service or visit someone at St. Mungos: the weight of inevitable pain.

“That’s life,” Lucius said flatly. “Severus and I are both aware of what might happen.”

She didn’t need to ask Draco if he’d be hurt if she fell for Lucius or Snape. He would be. There were so many things that could go wrong. But what if things went right? What if one of them was the perfect man for her and she missed out because she was too scared to try?

“If everybody’s really okay with it, I think we should just keep doing it like we’ve been doing it,” Hermione said carefully, gauging their reactions with a quick visual survey. “If I’m going out with someone else when you want to see me, I’ll tell you and we can pick a different night. Obviously Severus gets priority on the weekends since that's the only time he's free.”

“That sounds fine,” Lucius said, his eyes scanning the group as hers had. “And whenever you want us to all get together like this, you just tell me, and I’ll set it up.”

Hermione nodded. “I can do that. Are you sure it won’t make you all insanely jealous? I’d be mental if this was reversed and I was one of three girls some guy was seeing.”

Lucius smiled softly. “I don’t think you’re using any of us for your own selfish designs.”

_Aren’t I?_

“You just don’t know what you want yet.”

_What if I can’t decide?_

“We’ll see what happens.”

Severus pumped his finger into her passage. “Are you ready to _make this official_? I think you’re about to wet the sofa.”

“Yes,” Lucius agreed, his usual lascivious smile lighting his features. “Let’s toast our new merger properly. I can’t wait to fuck that pretty red mouth of yours.”

It would seem Draco had been right about the lipstick.

Severus leaned in and nipped her ear, his breath hot on her neck. “Why don’t you stand up and take off your dress. I think everyone here would prefer to see you without it.”

She nodded mechanically, too distracted by the multitude of hands and mouths to be embarrassed. Gods, she wanted to get out of her clothes. She was burning up on that damn leather.

Severus sniffed her throat, his aquiline beak running the length of one tendon. “Why do you smell of semen?” he asked with a lilt of amusement. “What the hell did you do before you left the house?”

Hermione looked at Draco, who had already torn off his shoes and socks and was currently ripping open his flies. Knowing her juices were all over his face gave her a rush of proprietorial exhilaration. “Draco came on me, sir.”

Severus smirked. "So I gathered. Did that turn you on?”

“It turns her on,” Lucius answered laughingly, his lips on her temple. “Hasn't she told you her new title?”

Severus quirked an eyebrow in curiosity. “No. What is it?”

“Tell him, princess.”

If they both kept breathing on her neck and whispering all over her ear, she was going to go stark raving mad. “I’m his cum queen.”

Severus chuckled and rested one huge hand on her thigh. “That you are. Are you ready for your coronation, cum queen?”

“Yes, sir.” So ready.

“Then get out of that blasted dress. If you adore cream so much, then I think you’ll have your fill tonight.”

Hermione nodded heartily, her mouth already watering. “Yes, sir!”

She couldn’t get out of her clothes fast enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consonance--Groups of tones that are harmonious when sounded together as in a chord.
> 
> "We've Only Just Begun" by Carpenters. Written by Roger Nichols (music) and Paul Williams (lyrics) and released in 1970.  
> The song was originally written for a bank commercial (which became very popular), and Richard Carpenter (that's the brother of the Carpenters duo) recognized Williams work (they were with he same record company) and asked him one day if there were any more verses to the song. Williams said there was--but there wasn't. He and Nichols quickly added another verse and a bridge to complete the song. Carpenter chose the song to be their third single, and the song went on to be an international hit, helping them to win a Grammy for Best New Artist is 1971.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=__VQX2Xn7tI>


	26. Counterpoint

26—Counterpoint

“Gettin’ brain in the library ‘cause I love knowledge—when you use your medulla oblongata—and give you scoliosis until I comatoses.”—Kanye West

(Severus) 

The strapless bra was gone in seconds, lying on the floor in the shadows of her crumpled dress. Her body was a testament to the artistry of curvature. Each rounded hill flowed into a smooth slope that leveled out in an expanse of supple skin, breasts and hips flaring from her waist like the body of a viola.

Her wild chestnut hair was pulled back, which was practical when accommodating three wizards, but Severus preferred to see it down, skimming her back and bushing out to electrify the space around her—especially when it was trailing over  _him_ , tickling his thighs and belly as she gorged herself on his manhood.

And while those seamed stockings were provocative, he didn’t need contrived sexuality to find her irresistible. Lucius was drawn to all the lace and frippery of female underwear while Severus could take it or leave it. It made a nice picture, but the female form was perfection that needed no visual assistance. Lucius liked to adorn the body, whereas Severus preferred to strip it down to its most basic state.

The next time he saw her alone, he’d take her with her hair fanned out all over the bed and her bare thighs splayed around his hips.

Severus pulled off his boots and socks and glanced over at Draco, who had left the rest of them in the dust. Smart boy. A head start was always advantageous. Severus and Lucius hadn't even gotten out of their trousers yet, and Draco already had her naked in his arms, lips locked in an all-consuming kiss. As he unbuttoned his frock coat, Severus observed their easy intimacy with great interest.

Draco was obviously smitten with her—and she with him. Severus didn’t want to destroy what they had; he knew the pain of lost love all too clearly. He wouldn’t do that to his godson. But seeing the sweet entanglement of roaming tongues and hungry hands made him realize how much he longed for that same sense of closeness and familiarity. He didn’t want to steal Hermione for his own, he just wanted to bask in the multitude of pleasures her body and mind had to offer. She could give him what Lucius couldn’t. Surrender. Openness. Beneficence.

An escape. 

Sanctuary.

Lucius had already tossed aside his brocaded waistcoat and was unbuttoning his white shirt while watching his son with a calculating glare. Severus knew Lucius needed this as much as he did; he was lost without someone to provide for. Unfortunately, Lucius thought Draco was his roadblock to bliss. Why couldn’t he see that the boy was their golden ticket? She was getting something from him that neither of them could supply. What that something was, he couldn’t be sure yet; but she obviously didn’t see Draco’s neediness as a detraction. She seemed to adore it.

But then Hermione _was_ an affectionate witch. She actually enjoyed caring for others. While his own views varied on that front, he did find it satisfying to have someone leaning on him. He’d had so few chances to entertain any sentimentality in his life. Lily had offered him the opportunity to fully embrace his softer side, but in the end he’d snubbed her kind-hearted attempts to lure him into the light, too scared to give up the power of the Dark Arts. What a fool he’d been. Everyone made mistakes, but his had been cataclysmic. After a lifetime of recompense, Severus could no longer abide the obtuse futility of poor judgment. It probably wasn’t wise to have chosen a career that left him surrounded by teenagers, a subsection of the population notorious for bad choices. Their blind belief that they would live forever and their refusal to acknowledge their mistakes was infuriating. He wanted to shake them until their brains either rattled loose or started working. Sadly, Minerva frowned on such physicality.

But Lucius, Hermione, and Draco all understood that life could quickly become something never intended. For the most part, they shared his caution and planning—Hermione more so than the other two. She preferred to think ahead, weigh her options. He liked that. Somehow, she played a cautious hand while still maintaining her humanity. He liked that too. While he had become bitter and cynical, she had harnessed her anger and used it to fuel her life’s purpose. She honestly cared about all those creatures she worked with. Everything she’d learned about the cruelties of the world had been funneled into aid rather than self-preservation. He couldn’t help but be fascinated by her.

Lucius pushed the table out of the way with one foot and toed off his loafers, drawing Snape's focus back to the present. Draco and Hermione's budding devotion obviously vexed him, but he was hiding it fairly well. There was a tic at the corner of his eye that betrayed his jealousy, but he’d been a paragon of magnanimity when Hermione had questioned his complaisance. Severus was proud of him. Lucius’s worst quality was avarice, but after they talked that afternoon, he could see that Hermione had already softened Malfoy’s more rapacious edges. Severus had merely hinted at her worries concerning the three of them, and Lucius had gallantly agreed to not pressure her into making a choice. All that was required after that was to subtly, but non-threateningly, mention her conversation with Draco. Hearing of her vehement desire to be with Draco left Lucius visibly upset, but when Severus went on to casually reveal her unwavering attraction to the elder Malfoy, Lucius began to vacillate between suppressed joy and deep thought. That was the moment to strike—while Lucius was open but unsure. Severus made it clear that he intended to continue seeing her, but he wouldn’t try to draw her away from Lucius or Draco. The planets and stars must have all been in alignment, because after a glass of Chardonnay, Lucius announced he would do the same and let the chips fall where they may. Severus was sure Lucius thought those chips would fall in his favor, but the fact that he was willing to accept the _possibility_ that Draco _might_ prove victorious was a testament to Hermione’s influence.

And Snape’s silver tongue. Who needed charm when a touch of coercion was so effective? Was it coercion to bring out someone’s nobler instincts? Albus probably would have said no, but the Slytherin in Snape recognized manipulation when he saw it. Still, he didn't regret doing it. Sometimes Lucius needed a shove in the right direction.

He watched for a moment as Lucius finished untucking his shirttails and started on his collar. Snape's gaze wandered down the lithe line of his body. The man was poetry in motion. Was he already hard, or was that just a fortunate trick of the lighting? Smiling to himself, Severus rose from his seat and shrugged off his coat, tossing it into the empty chair along with Lucius's discarded layers. Malfoy glanced at him with a hint of appreciation, but Severus didn't garner his full attention until he had his bulging placket cupped in the palm of his hand. Hmm, not a trick of the lighting at all. Lucius paused to give him a curious smirk, and Severus replied by curling his fingers around the warmth of his sac.

Malfoy’s lips curled with approval, and Severus nodded at his remaining buttons with a pointed look of disapproval. Lucius took the hint and proceeded to undress while Severus . . . _assisted_. Four hands were better than two, and he’d been dying to get him out of those damn trousers since lunch. But ripping open another man’s flies in the middle of the soup course was usually considered rude. It was customary to wait until after dinner.

Lucius’s length grew under his practiced touch, and Severus’s own erection responded in kind, inspired by the visceral sensation of pure lust expanding in his hand. He could almost taste Malfoy’s musky heat on his tongue, that salty melange that spoke of desire and need. Severus licked his lips and grabbed Malfoy by the waist, yanking him up against his body and grinding his crotch along the heated column tenting Lucius's shorts.

Malfoy's predatory gaze darkened, and he slid his hand around the back of Snape’s neck, pulling him in to murmur, “How should we fuck our favorite Gryffindor tonight?”

Snape skimmed his hands around Lucius’s chiseled hips and tucked his fingers into the waistband of his black silk boxers, teasing the rippling muscles of his lower back. “Let’s have her sit on Draco while we take turns with that pretty red mouth. After Draco comes, we can fuck her as we please and give her a real ride.”

“Excellent idea. Should we tell Draco?”

Snape nodded distractedly as he eased down Lucius’s trousers. “I’ll tell him.”

As soon as Malfoy’s clothes dropped to the floor, Severus clasped his shaft, reveling in the steely satin of his sex. A few slow pumps drew a restless sigh from Lucius’s twitching mouth, and Severus almost leaned in for a lick. _Wait. Wasn’t I supposed to do something? Yes._ Peering over his shoulder, he motioned to the younger Malfoy. “Draco.”

Draco detached himself from her lips and looked up, his eyes drowsy with pleasure. “Yeah?”

“Sit on the couch and get her warmed up. Miss Granger, are you listening to me?”

She nodded and met his gaze. If her pupils were any larger, he would have suspected drugging.

“I want you to ride Draco’s cock. Face out so we can see you.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered. 

Draco took her hand and led her to the sofa. Once he was seated in the center, she turned her back to him and reverse straddled his lap so her feet rested just outside his. Holding his knees for support, she lowered herself onto his straining length, her bottom lip pinned beneath her teeth, her breathing sharp and erratic.

Severus gave Lucius a knowing look and then, slowly, leaned in for a kiss. Malfoy grunted softly as their tongues entwined, and with a hand to the hip, he locked their bodies together, rolling his pelvis in a subtle simulation of what was to come. Granger whimpered quietly, whether from the penetration or the view, Snape couldn’t be certain. Assuming it to be both, he gave her a hell of a show to get her going.

Not to be outdone, Lucius wedged a hand between them and released his zip. Snape’s hard-on made a break for it, and he sighed in relief when he felt the freedom of fresh air. Lucius shoved his clothes to the floor, and the heated steel of his distended dick stood alongside Snape’s, battling him in a sword fight of sensualism. 

Lucius started on Snape’s shirt, roughly pulling it open and baring his pale chest. There was a brief struggle with the buttons on his cuffs, but then his shirt was gone, relegated to the discard pile with the rest. Lucius’s hands roamed over his skin, taking what he liked most and, as always, luxuriating in the enchantment of touch. While Severus was fond of Lucius’s talents, he wanted to see what Granger could do with that red mouth of hers. Tapping Malfoy’s hip with a persuasive pat, Severus urged him to be the first to partake of her bounty.

When they turned to her, she was collapsed back on Draco’s chest, staring at them with slack-jawed wonder. _It appears the presentation was a success_. Draco was gently thrusting into her from below, his dick disappearing and reappearing with each lift of his hips. His long fingers were locked on her breast, teasing her nipples to little pink peaks. His expression suggested devout rapture, his mouth pressed to the side of her cheek as if seeking absolution from her flushed skin.

Lucius stepped up and beckoned her forward. “Did you want this, Miss Granger?”

Her gaze remained fixed on his cock, completely spellbound. It must have taken her muddled brain a moment to translate his words, because several silent seconds passed before she nodded and leaned forward, causing Draco to sink even deeper—which got a loud report from both of them.

With a mewl of reluctance, Draco gave up his claim on her breasts and, instead, sank his fingers into the soft skin of her hips. His eyes fell to her arse, and Severus wondered whether he was entranced by its decorative lines or if he was simply avoiding the sight of his father. Probably both.

Hermione grabbed Lucius’s waist to pull him closer, and when she looked up, her sultry stare singed them both. The breathy parting of her mouth held his attention; that glossy shine was perversely mesmerizing. Snape kicked away his clothes and stood behind Lucius, watching the proceedings from over his shoulder. Granger’s gorgeous garnet lips separated, and her pink tongue crept out, glittering with wet hunger. She reverently licked Lucius’s knob and then looked to him for praise. Or guidance. Or maybe she just had a thing for pretty blonds.

Lucius angled his cock in different directions so she could get it from all angles, and when the top half was shellacked in a thick coating of saliva, he lifted his length and pulled her forward to indulge in his balls.

She looked lovely with her face buried in his translucent thatch. Severus could almost imagine himself down there, his hooked nose bumping along Malfoy’s arcing shaft as he balanced the weight of one dense bollock on the flat of his tongue. He had probably licked every inch of that man over the past two decades, but the back of that sac was one of his favorite areas. So sensitive. So rich. So arse adjacent. Perhaps Miss Granger could use a helping hand as well. Following the path of Lucius’s spine with a feathery finger, Snape trailed past his tailbone until he was tracing the shadow of his crevice. Hissing loudly, Lucius ground himself into her face, seeking some friction, but before it was wiped away, Severus saw the telltale sparkle of pre-cum clinging to his crimson tip. 

With his free hand, Severus reached around and stroked her face. “Tell Lucius how much you love his bollocks.”

“Mmmmufffmomohworr.”

Lucius chuckled and eased her back. “What was that?”

“You smell so good, sir.”

Malfoy grinned and ran his thumb along the underside of her chin. “Open your mouth for me, princess. I want you to taste something.”

Severus hid his smile in Lucius’s neck. Princess? _How long has he been calling her that?_ He nipped Malfoy’s shoulder, watching the devourment from the corner of his eye. It was a good name for her. And Lucius would love seducing his own little princess. How interesting. Without Legilimency Malfoy had identified one of her biggest turn-ons: a caring dominant. That was right up Lucius’s alley. But Lucius wasn't privy to the profusion of secret fantasies tucked away in her head. Severus was easily the kinkier of the two, and it would be his pleasure to lure her deep into her own sexual psyche and draw out her darkest desires. Lucius liked to dominate on his own terms; he did what turned him on. Severus preferred to explore limits, discovering what made his partner tick. He relished seeing another person slowly submit to the raw depths of their own depravity. It made him feel better about his own foibles and lessened the sense of vulnerability brought on by the intimacy of sex. Perhaps that wasn’t how most people approached seduction, but Severus had never been one for following the book. It worked for him.

Hermione's mouth glided up and down Lucius’s length so smoothly Snape could almost feel her lips on his own cock. Was she doing that swirly trick with her tongue that she'd unveiled the night before, teasing his frenulum with every backstroke? Was Lucius just as mindless as he’d been? _Let's see._ Severus’s finger slipped along the furrowed track of Malfoy’s bum, burrowing into the den between his thighs. Lucius spread his legs so Severus could reach his scrotum from behind, and Snape’s fingers found the wrinkled warmth of his bollocks. Sinking his teeth into the tendons lining Malfoy’s neck, Severus simultaneously tugged his sac and ground himself into the tense buttocks he knew better than his own.

Lucius growled and grabbed him by the hip, encouraging him to continue.

Severus had no intention of stopping. “Are you showing Lucius what that tongue of yours can do, Miss Granger?”

“Mm-hmm!”

Lucius shivered as her assurance buzzed his groin.

"Good girl,” Snape purred. “Spread your legs wide so Draco can touch your clit.”

Draco met his eye with an amused arch of his brow, and Severus gave him a crafty smile so he’d know he was included in their game.

Leaning forward, pressing his chest to her back, Draco slid his hand to her slit. His middle finger flitted between her lips, bumping over her clit and drawing a steady moan from her busy mouth.

The muscles in Lucius's neck tightened as her vocalizations rang through his body, and Snape nipped each popping cord, laving one ropy tendon from start to finish.

“Your turn,” Lucius grunted through clenched teeth. He abruptly pulled out of her mouth with a wet pop, obviously averting a quick finish.

Severus could relate; he’d spent half the previous night in a delirium of oral tightrope walking. He’d have to keep an eye on her this time. The girl had a knack for springing surprise tongue attacks when least expected. 

He traded places with Lucius, and as predicted, Malfoy showed him no mercy, returning the groping and adding some moves of his own. Severus took a deep breath to fortify his resolve then placed his hands on either side of Granger’s face to forestall any ambush.

“Use your other hand to pinch her nipple,” he told Draco. “Make her crazy.”

Draco smiled and cupped her breast, his long fingers plying her nipple like a new Knut; he put his lips to the side of her throat and kissed her softly, whispering something between each peck. Hermione’s lashes drooped lower, and her hips began to circle, which made Draco’s eyes roll back so hard they fluttered in a seizure of pleasurable paroxysms. They looked like two sex junkies getting their fix.

Severus brushed his fingers along her cheek to guide her attention back to the task at hand. “Open wide.”

With one sluggish blink, she looked up at him and parted her red lips.

“Are you ready for this?”

She nodded, her body shuddering as Draco’s teeth grazed her jugular.

“Stick out your tongue and say ahhhh.”

A dopey smile crossed her lips, but she did just as he said.

Severus smirked and lightly tapped his knob against her glistening tongue. His cock twitched hard with each wet splat, but he managed to rein it in with a firm grip. Lucius was right behind him, growling in his ear as he crushed his spit-slick dick into the crack of his arse. One devilish hand circled around and found his nipple and tweaked it in time with the thrusting. Severus’s body loved the dual stimulation, but he needed to focus on her reaction.

“More?” he asked casually.

“Please may I suck your cock, sir?”

So she hadn’t forgotten the rules.

“I don’t know,” he said doubtfully, pretending he hadn’t decided. “Did you do a good job sucking Lucius?”

She nodded vigorously.

“And what about Draco? Are you riding him hard? Is he ready to come?”

Hermione appeared less sure about that. “I don’t know. Are you ready to come, Draco?”

Looking a bit unhinged, his respiration choppy with strain, Draco pulled his lips from her love-bitten neck. “I can last longer. Are _you_ close?”

“If you rub my clit faster, I will be.”

The liquid squish of his fingering became an incessant sloshing of constant motion. Severus knew that tune. Diddler’s Delight, wasn’t it?

Snape stroked her chin to bring her eyes back to his. “Is your bottom nice and sore from yesterday?”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a bright blush.

“Is that making you wet?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you going to keep being my good girl the rest of the night?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Good girls don’t come until I tell them to.”

Her face tightened with worry. “I’m very close, sir.”

"Stop rubbing her clit, Draco. She's not allowed to come yet.”

“I want her to come while I’m inside her,” Draco argued.

“I know you do,” Severus said gently. “But I know you want to get both your hands on those tits too. There will be plenty of time to fulfill your desires. You can always fuck her again later.”

Draco sighed and cupped both breasts so her nipples slotted between his fingers. “I get to have her again after you two?”

Severus slid his hand from her cheek to Draco’s head, smoothing his hand over the boy’s soft hair. “I know she’d like that.”

Draco didn’t flinch, but he appeared confused by the touch.

“She wants your cum. Give her all you have.” Snape drew his thumb along the line of Draco's jaw. He looked so much like Lucius. And yet he didn't. There was enough of Narcissa there to smooth out the angularity. That softness kept him looking boyish despite his age, a gift that would serve him well in the coming years. Severus returned his hand to Hermione's cheek, hoping he hadn't overstepped any unspoken boundaries. He didn't know if Draco shared his father's libertine views on homosexuality or not. He’d find out later. 

Holding Hermione still with one hand, Severus loosely grasped his cock and tapped the tip along her pouty lower lip. She opened up immediately, and he gave her a nod of praise. “Tell Draco the truth, Miss Granger. Do you want him to come inside you?”

She nodded and started bouncing up and down as if Draco were her favorite ride at the fair. “Yes, sir. Please come inside me, Draco. You know how much I want it.”

Draco’s jaw dropped as she picked up speed. “Fuck!”

Severus eased his aching glans between her lips, and her mouth tightened around him with each bounce, her tongue wiggling madly, seemingly without aim.

Draco’s fingers sank into her breasts, and he held on as she accelerated to a gallop. His smoky eyes drifted shut, and his lips began to move in a silent litany. Severus wondered what he was saying. A petition to Saint Pussy?

Draco’s body tensed, and Severus found himself enraptured by the image. The paternal resemblance was even more pronounced in the throes of passion. They shared that same lip-twitching start of a snarl that transformed their patrician features into something animalistic. But Lucius usually doubled down on the ferocity, using his climax as an outlet for his more feral inclinations. Draco, however, went in the opposite direction, wavering on the edge of a roar and then melting into the pleasure, the strain slowly draining from his body.

Severus met Hermione’s eye. She was staring at him, begging for his attention without a word. Gods, he wanted to come all over her. She was just waiting for someone to take the weight of responsibility off her shoulders. The more he told her what to do, the more she relaxed. “He’s coming. Don’t you dare stop until I say so.”

She nodded madly, taking his dick along for the ride.

Draco groaned softly as he finished, his jaw trembling with release.

When he went limp and sank back against the seat, Severus slowed her to a trot with gentle touch to the shoulder. “All right. That’s good. You can rest now.”

Her heavy huffing had his rod humming in her mouth like a tuning fork. Not willing to be overcome by something as benign as breathing, Severus pulled out and bent down to whisper in her ear. “Does my little girl like being full of cum?”

She nodded.

“You did such a good job. I think you need an appropriate reward.”

Lucius took the opportunity to slip a finger between his cheeks and knock at his backdoor. Snape ground his teeth together and growled a warning. Just for that, he was leaving Draco’s jizz right where it was. Lucius could have sloppy seconds—or thirds if she was still retaining the previous night’s bestowal.

“Stand up and bend over. Show Lucius your naughty bottom.”

The heat in her eyes flared. _Liked that, did you? Well, there’s more where that came from, little girl._

Carefully, and with a lip-gnawing wince, she rose from Draco’s lap, and let his prick fall free, a creamy slurp of uncoupling highlighting their separation. How delightfully debauched. Severus spun her around so her back was to Lucius and then braced his bum on the arm of the couch and gestured for her to take her rightful place face down on his dick. Planting her hands on his thighs for balance, she folded over and kissed his cock hello, effectively presenting her arse to Lucius.

The corner of Malfoy’s haughty sneer hitched into a half-smile, and he gave her red backside a fond pat. “Is this for me?”

Severus replied since her mouth was otherwise engaged. “Tell me when you’re close so I can come in her mouth at the same time.”

The other side of Lucius's smile curled into a wicked grin. “Double her pleasure, double her fun?”

Severus nodded and stroked the back of her neck with one hand, smoothing the downy strands of hair that hadn’t made it into her twisty coiffure. “Ready, Miss Granger?”

Instead of answering, she sucked him into her sweltering mouth and arched her back so Lucius had an unobstructed view.

Lucius laughed and grabbed her arse. “Let’s see what we can do for this little pussy.”

Widening his stance so he was level with her sex, Lucius grasped his shaft and aligned himself with her opening. A cacophony of groans accompanied his penetration, both of them drowning out the other in a duet of shared euphoria. As soon as his dick was deep enough to guide itself, Malfoy grabbed her cheeks in both hands and made her bum jiggle as he sank to the hilt.

Her whimpering cry shot up Snape’s rod and resonated throughout his entire pelvis.

“That’s our girl,” Severus hissed, his rumble rougher than planned. “Make me come.”

Lucius plunged in, piercing her to the core, and she sucked Severus hard with her gasp of surprise. The meaty slap of skin on skin was amplified by the deafening squelch of her hungry sex. He’d never heard anything sweeter.

Severus rhythmically rubbed her neck as she took him to the back of her throat; he wanted her to know how pleased he was by her efforts. Appreciative did not begin to convey his feelings on the matter. Being attended to with such determination was a new experience.

She took one hand off his thigh to pump him in time with her fucking. The faster Lucius went, the faster her hand moved, gliding along his shaft with  purpose. Her manic tongue twisted and twirled around his head, licking away every drop of pre-cum that rose to the surface. She kept the licking constant, just as he’d instructed the night before. God bless a girl with a brain who could follow simple instructions.

Lucius drew out the torture for another fifteen minutes, changing up the tempo and teasing her with his touch. He could have gone longer, but Severus knew he was trying to time his orgasm to coincide with hers.

When he saw Lucius’s lip curl back in a beastial smile, he prepared himself for ejection.

“I’m almost there,” Lucius told him. “So’s she. Should we let her come now?”

Severus nodded. “Put your finger in her arse. As deep as you can. I’m interested to find out what kind of notes she can hit tonight.”

Malfoy snickered and slicked his middle finger in his mouth. When he pressed it to her anus, she shouted around Snape's cock and undulated in a dance of anticipation.

Severus shared an amused look with Lucius and tickled the side of her throat with the tips of his fingers. “It’s all right. Come for us, Miss Granger.”

A groaning moan flowed from her mouth, spilling around him like champagne bubbles; that would have been lovely on its own, but then she locked him in a death grip and wailed as Lucius skewered her arse in a slow corkscrew. When his finger reached its maximum depth, her cries dropped an octave, rolling through his balls like thunder. She was right on the edge. Lucius saw it too. With a nod, Malfoy reached around and grazed her clit, and she went off like an exploding firecracker. Her body jittered violently, as if she were caught in an electrical cross-stream of cock. Lucius growled and, abandoning any pretense of control, slammed into her, releasing himself into the maelstrom.

Severus remained absolutely still. Thrusting would be unnecessary. Her spastic convulsions had the involuntary side effect of upping her suction power to that of a supercharged Hoover. Severus grunted and twitched toward her mouth, spattering the back of her throat with the accuracy of a sharp shooter. He closed his eyes as she swallowed around him, her tongue sweeping over his knob, nursing each propulsive burst of cream that erupted from his balls. Holy shit! He was going to go blind. She was going to suck the sight right out of his eyes.

“Bloody hell!” Lucius grunted.

Severus couldn’t agree more.

All three of them slowed to a crawl, dying like a wind-up ménage à trois toy whose gears had run out of steam. Severus gently eased her back, and she mindlessly let him fall from her mouth. Strings of sloppy saliva kept them connected for a moment, but her heavy panting snapped them with one huff.

Lucius pulled out and squeezed his dick clean, wiping the remains on her arse and then rubbing it in. “That was perfect, princess. Come up here and let me see that pretty face of yours.”

Hermione rose shakily and Lucius wrapped her in his arms and pecked her forehead.

“How’s your pussy feel?”

“Leaky, sir.”

Lucius laughed and tipped up her chin. “Isn’t that how you like it?” 

“Yes, sir.”

His lips met hers in a sweet kiss. “Do you need to rest?”

“Just for a bit.”

Lucius nodded as if he understood her plight, but rather than helping her to the sofa, he sealed his mouth to hers and snogged her until her body went as limp as a rubber chicken.

Severus seemed to be the only one not kissing her. He didn’t know how to feel about that. The desire was there, but he wanted to make sure she was going to stick around before he got all addicted to her lips. He’d wait and see what happened over the coming weeks.

Snape glanced over at Draco, who was right where they’d left him, slumped on the couch, his muscles slack with easy relaxation—except now the peaceful bliss of orgasm had been erased from his fine features by a sharp look of loathing for his father. Severus wanted to tell him not to worry. Lucius might be romantic and skilled in all matters of carnality, but Draco had the distinct advantage of being her friend. That was impossible to compete with.

Lucius finally broke the kiss, and instead of escorting her to the couch, he nudged her toward Severus.

Severus met Lucius’s eyes over her head as he pulled her in and held her to his chest. Lucius knew very well that Draco would be best at helping her recover and calm down. “You did well tonight, Miss Granger.”

Her arms encircled his waist in a warm hug.

Severus rubbed her back, not knowing what else to do. He couldn’t have her thinking he didn’t want her embrace. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, sir,” she muttered into his chest.

“Why don’t you sit down with Draco and rest.” He lowered his head and whispered in her ear, “He’s getting lonely. Make sure he knows how much you want him.”

She looked up at him with a grateful smile, tenderly reaching for his face. He caught her hand and brushed his lips over her fingertips. “Go on,” he whispered.

After a moment’s hesitation, she turned and crawled into Draco’s lap. Draco grinned and pulled her close, linking his arms around her and burying his face in her neck.

Lucius leaned into Severus and gave him a discerning look. “Are you delegating all affection to my son?”

Severus glanced at the cuddling couple. “It’s what she needs,” he whispered back. “It’s what we all need. There’s enough of her to go around.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes as Draco kissed her cheek, but he nodded, considering the possibility. “Perhaps.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Counterpoint--Two or three melodic lines played at the same time.
> 
> "Make Her Say" by Kid Cudi (feat. Common and Kanye West). Released in 2009. Written by Scott Mescudi (Kid Cudi), Kanye West, Lonnie Lynn (Common), Stefani Germanotta (Lady Gaga), and Nadir Khayat (RedOne). "The song is perhaps best known for its sample of "Poker Face", as performed by Lady Gaga. The song received a nomination for Best Rap Performance by a Duo or Group at the 52nd Grammy Awards."--Wikipedia  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=AmSV2cim0Qg>


	27. Intermission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry, no lemons in this chapter, but I have to move the plot forward. (Prepare for a short time warp.) I have to rewrite the next chapter, so it could take me a while (but I’m excited to write it for some reason, so hopefully that’ll move things along faster). Hope you all enjoy.

27—Intermission

“Turn and face the strange. Ch-ch-changes.”—David Bowie

(Hermione)

The next two months were a whirlwind of change for Hermione. Spring melted into summer, and in the sultry heat of her surroundings, her body blossomed like a flower in the sun. 

The cornucopia of sex relaxed her in ways she’d never imagined, toning down her anxieties and loosening her obsessive stranglehold on life. And who knew that pussy power was the secret to success? Not only was she more productive, she was far less neurotic, which certainly put everyone around her at ease. Florence kept giving her knowing smiles, and Hermione suspected that she'd deduced the source of her newfound exuberance.

Of course, like everyone else, Flo thought Draco was the mainspring of her merriment. And with good reason. Their friendly lunches in the canteen had become conspicuously giggly and gropey. They tried to keep the public displays to a minimum, dodging behind filing cabinets for a snog and hiding their touching hands in the lift; but Draco’s universal flirting had dropped off, and his old flames had sprouted some sharp claws. When Hermione got reports from the Ministry, they were now mysteriously covered in coffee and ink stains; and more than once her submitted paperwork had gone “missing.” For the sake of her cases, and the creatures she had sworn to protect, she chose to play nice and ignore the catty glares. And to circumvent any further filing sabotage, she had Florence handle their paperwork—her legendary wrath keeping everyone in line.

Unfortunately, without Draco’s flirting, Hermione lost her source of intel, and as a result, she had no idea when to approach the higher ups for funding. She just had to wing it, and the results had been less than stellar. Essentially skint, her department had to start cutting corners.

Hermione made up the difference from her own pocket, selling a few rare titles to keep the safe houses up and running. It had been tragic to lose such prized pieces of her collection, but she wouldn't be able to live with herself if something happened to a creature in her care. Besides, she could do with a little spring cleaning every now and again.

At least that was what she told herself when her eyes strayed to the empty slots on her shelves.

In addition to her unplanned “cleaning,” spring had brought with it a panoply of new life—but none as breathtaking as the bouncing baby boy Ginny gave birth to in the middle of May. Hermione was there for his arrival, and baby James was absolutely adorable, a perfect little raven-haired cherub with Harry’s cowlick and Ginny’s brown eyes. He was positively scrumptious. Hermione spent all her free nights at the Potter’s cuddling with him and telling him about all the books she had waiting for him back at her flat. He appeared interested, but then again he didn’t speak English, so perhaps he simply enjoyed the noises falling out of her face. She could live with that. Luring him into the world of reading would be a piece of cake if he was already enraptured by her voice.

Harry had taken off work to spend time with Ginny and the baby, so Hermione hadn’t seen him at the Ministry in almost a month, which she couldn’t help thinking was an unintended blessing. With Harry distracted by his expanding family, he hadn’t heard about her affair with Draco, and truth be told, she wasn’t so sure she was prepared for that particular conversation.

Harry and Draco were amicable workplace acquaintances, but they weren’t friendly enough for Harry to welcome him with open arms. And if she had to put her love life into words, she could think of no kind way to explain what was going on. Just divulging the cast of characters would be daunting. She didn’t want to lie to her friends, but what on earth was she supposed to say? _I’m not only shagging Draco but his father and Snape as well. Cheers!_ That wouldn’t go over well at all—especially not with Ron.

Ron had left the Auror department to help George with the joke shop, so she never really saw him except when she went over to the Potter’s. It was a bit of a relief that she didn’t have to confess her private life to either Harry or Ron just yet. As long as there was a baby to fuss over, she was spared the threat of inquiry.

But she knew she’d have to face the music sooner or later—she was just leaning toward later. At the moment, she had bigger issues gamboling about in her brain.

For instance, she’d been thinking about babies. A lot.

She wasn’t a baby-fever kind of girl, but holding James had sent Hermione’s imagination careening into a tiny tot wonderland. Should she be judging her Slytherin contenders on their paternal capabilities? Severus would, hands down, win the fatherhood award for Most Likely to Induce Tears with a Single Glower. But perhaps he would be different if the child were his own flesh and blood. She’d have to think about that. Lucius already was a father, but she suspected he’d be much better at it a second time around. He seemed willing to learn from his mistakes, and he did place a high value on family. Draco was, by far, the most nurturing. He’d make a marvelous father—assuming he didn’t cuddle the baby to death. Hermione could just imagine their adorable blond toddler never learning to walk because Draco refused to set it down. Smiling affectionately, Hermione made a mental note to hug Draco extra hard when he came to pick her up at the end of the day.

Hermione honestly didn’t know if children fit into her plans, but it was an interesting concept. Since she couldn’t even figure out which one of her sexy Slytherins she wanted most, she had no business foisting fictitious offspring on them.

Hermione had thought that, given time, the correct choice would naturally become clear, her ideal partner illuminated by the light of knowledge; but getting to know them had NOT made her decision any easier. If anything, it was the complete opposite: the closer they grew, the harder it was to imagine leaving any of them. They each had their own strengths and weaknesses, but ultimately, they were so different it was like trying to compare apples and oranges . . . and bananas.

Predictably, Snape was the most complicated. He was more distant than Draco or his father, but he was slowly letting down his guard. The snark and sarcasm still rolled off his tongue like acerbic honey, but she noticed that each time they met, he was a touch tenderer. He had actually kissed the top of her head the last time she was recovering from her round with the riding crop. Flustered with shock, she’d almost fallen out of his lap, but his grip was strong and he held her tightly against him, preventing any clumsy catastrophes. She'd said it before and she’d say it again—those hands of his knew just what she needed.

Hermione only got to see Snape once on the weekends, but the last time they’d gotten together, he’d suggested that, since he was off for the summer, she should start coming over to his flat in Cokeworth during the week. She had somehow managed to restrain her giddy squeal, but inside, she’d been leaping around the room in celebration. Visit his flat? Coming from Snape that was like a five minute snog after a heart-felt confession about his childhood. It didn’t get much more personal. She couldn’t wait to observe him in his natural habitat.

Most weeks Draco spent Sunday night at her place, and then they went to work together in the morning. She’d see Lucius on Wednesdays or Thursdays; and Severus would stay with her Saturday nights. Draco never made it the whole week on just one visit, so on either Tuesday or Friday she could expect to hear a knock at her door followed by a panicked demand for more kisses. She was flattered by his passion and persistence, and if she was being truthful, she wanted him there all the time. She loved having someone hold her while she read in bed, someone she could wrap her arms around at night and talk with until she fell asleep. They all fit the bill in that regard, but Draco got the most face time, and he was damn good at playing the role of attentive lover.

She wished she could see Snape and Lucius just as often, but Severus had been constrained by his teaching schedule, and Lucius never suggested more. She had a feeling they didn’t realize how much she was seeing Draco, and she felt it would be rude to bring him up when she was alone with them. Plus they all seemed to be concertedly avoiding any mention of her other suitors and the choice she had to make, even going so far as to change the subject when she wandered in that direction. If there was one thing Slytherins were good at, it was guarding a secret. She had no clue how any of them were dealing with the whole confusing affair.

At first she thought Snape was trying to maintain some sense of detachment, but he’d blown that supposition to bits when he invited her to Spinner’s End. He’d even offered to show her his lab and then told her his personal library was at her disposal.

As if the sex wasn’t a big enough draw. Now he was proposing an incentive plan.

Of course she’d accept his offer, but literary pursuits weren’t usually at the forefront of her mind when she was with Severus. Not that they didn’t engage in thought-provoking conversation, it was just that playtime tended to come first. Domination before discourse.

When Draco saw her on Sundays, her arse was always red and, occasionally, bruised. She refused to heal it, preferring to let the memory linger. As luck would have it, Draco was a huge fan of post-spanking redness _and_ lotion-drenched bum rubbing, so she let him do a little hands-on healing until the marks faded on their own.

Over the course of the past month, Snape had taken things to a new level, introducing her to an assortment of implements and turning her into his sordid schoolgirl. He altered her old uniform and gave her as much detention as she could handle. Being “Head Girl” was hard—and rather sticky—but she was enjoying his methodology. The weekend prior, he’d put her in the corner and ordered her hold her pleated grey skit above her reddened backside. Three thick, slippery fingers worked their way up her arse—a personal best that she intended to surpass as soon as possible—and she’d come undone in seconds. And then again a few minutes later.

And again when he pinned her to the wall with his crotch.

While his punishments were becoming a little more perverse each week, his fucking had, conversely, become gentler. Sometimes he just shagged the hell out of her, but she noticed that as they grew closer, he was becoming more patient, riding her slowly and gauging her reactions as if scientifically recording her various responses to stimuli. It drove her absolutely mad. His hugging and back rubbing had seeped into his screwing, which made for a bizarre melding of carnality and care.

It was the care that astonished her. He wasn’t affectionate like Draco, or even romantic like Lucius; but he made her feel strangely secure. He’d started doing other things for her too—non-sexual things. Things she had never expected to see him doing in a million years. Like cooking for her. And bathing her. Okay, bathing might have been in the sexual realm, but he did it in a way that left her feeling soft and sweet rather than horny.

She wasn’t sure she totally understood Snape, but she’d be damned if she could give up what they had together. Draco and Lucius never wanted to argue about magical theory or philosophize about life—they had their own interests and communication styles. She needed the titillation to her mind that Severus supplied. While their intellectual discussions obviously provided the mental workout she needed to thrive, the sex was just as cerebral. He was the master of messing with her head, his domination being largely psychological in nature. He made her think about what was happening, and he never let her forget just how aroused she was by the humiliation. The punishment wasn’t over until her face was as red as her bum.

He played her like a game of chess, always ten moves ahead. But Hermione was content to let him win. She liked the way he explored her motives and teased out every face-burning fantasy. He never made her feel ashamed or guilty about her predilections; if anything, she felt magnificently free after each admission, as if she’d unburdened her soul. For a man who had gone to great lengths to ridicule her when she was his student, he was amazingly sensitive about her sexual education as an adult. Was it her maturity that had altered his attitude, or was it his own? Had the war changed him, or had she never known the real Severus? Whoever he was now, she felt as if she could tell him anything. He never once flinched from her darkest desires.

But then, neither did Draco. Of course their approaches were totally different—but both men shared an affinity for perversion and sexual adventure. Lucius was a bit of a mystery in that department. She had yet to reveal anything overly embarrassing, so she honestly had no idea how he would react. They were always too lost in the lust to examine the finer points of their fantasies.

And Lucius _was_ complicated, no matter what Severus said to the contrary. For a man she had always thought to be brusque and cold, Mr. Malfoy was exceedingly considerate when it came to pleasure. But much like Snape, Lucius wore an invisible armor at all times; a wall of protection guarded his most vulnerable sensibilities. After spending more time with him, she came to see that the coldness was really a cover for his cautiousness. And while he was admittedly pretentious, he was also gallant and generous. He was one of those people whose less appealing traits became unnoticeable once you got to know them. 

Or maybe he was just nicer when she was around.

He kept insisting she brought out his better qualities, and at first Hermione had thought he was just sweet-talking her. But perhaps there was some truth in his flattery. He did seem different. Lighter. Calmer. More stable.

Her nights with Lucius were a far cry from her nights with Snape. Where Snape was constantly plotting and planning, Lucius was all about relaxation and romance.

Preferring privacy, they almost always had dinner at the Manor—Draco chose to stay away those nights—and afterward, once she’d been loosened up by the cuisine and conversation, they would listen to music, which led to the discovery that Lucius Malfoy was a magnificent dancer. It was impossible to not get wet with that man pressed up against her, his body rocking into hers, his half-hard cock jabbing her stomach in time to the beat.

And the smell of him was drool-inducing, a veritable pheromone festival. The first time he’d shown her the ballroom and twirled her around its open expanse, she’d been high on his scent as much as his grace. He’d shagged her against the muraled wall that night, their grunts and moans echoing off the hardwood floors and tinkling through the chandeliers. It had quickly become one her favorite locales.

In the last month, he’d started presenting her with gifts when she came over. Hermione kept telling him he didn’t have to buy her anything, but he claimed he couldn’t help himself. At first it had just been simple indulgences: chocolate covered cherries, flowers, perfume. But then he’d started in with the lingerie, and things had just gotten out of control. Although . . . the man did have exquisite taste in underwear. Fine French lace. The softest satin. Having him call her princess was becoming more and more fitting. He made her feel like royalty.

In some ways Lucius was a romance novel come to life. He was handsome and rich, and he fucked like a god. But that idyllic standard wasn’t her usual fare, and many nights she was left questioning her own—possibly shallow—motives . . . but then he would catch her off guard with the most thoughtful comment or gesture, and she’d wonder how she could have ever reduced him to nothing more than a vainglorious caricature. 

There was an aching sweetness about him that seemed to be struggling to find a voice. And she understood without being told that his presents were his way of expressing the things he couldn’t say. If it made him feel better to provide, she wanted to be there for him—as long as he didn’t get too extravagant. She explained to him on multiple occasions that his wealth wasn’t what made him special to her, that it was his generous spirit and his love of all things beautiful, which in turn made her life more beautiful. Either he didn’t believe her or he didn’t know how to respond, because the next week he presented her with a pair of diamond earrings. She was floored. What the hell was she supposed to do with diamond earrings? At first she’d refused them, saying they were too expensive; but he was relentless. Hermione finally agreed to wear them, but only when she was with him; and he had to keep them at his house.

Despite her discomfort with being given such an exorbitant gift, she grudgingly had to admit that the earrings _did_ make her feel pretty. 

But Lucius always made her feel pretty—just by the way he treated her. His touch was reverent, every caress an ode to adoration. He seemed to genuinely delight in her company, laughing with her and eagerly discussing her day as if he was enraptured by her legal dramas. And when her clothes came off, the exaltation in his eyes lit up her clit like a bonfire.

He worshiped her body.

Whether he was thrusting hard and fast or giving her a nice slow grind, she’d never met a man who loved pussy as much as he did. She wondered how he had survived for so long in its absence.

But the thing about Lucius that surprised her most were the moments of sexual repose. Draco was usually super sleepy and cuddly after he came, and Severus often drifted into silence, as if he’d lost the ability to talk after blowing his load. But Lucius never missed a beat, maintaining the magic of their union and catering to her every whim. He kissed her and stroked her body until she was calm and peaceful, and then he held her in his arms as if he couldn’t bear the thought of separation. Threading his fingers through hers, he’d hold her hand, pressing his palm to hers in a chaste kiss of contentment.

Was that what he used to do with Narcissa? Did he miss the security of a partner, the familiar touch of compassion and acceptance? She hoped so, because she had plenty of both, and seeing him so unguarded melted her guts like taffy in a heatwave.

If Lucius was the devoted husband, Draco was the teenager with his first crush. Lucius expressed his arousal with class and refinement, whereas Draco was deliriously happy with everything they did. As long as she was touching him, Draco was good to go. And gods, did she love touching him. Snogging, hugging, petting, squeezing—she couldn’t get enough. Drawing out that blushing smile he reserved just for her made her feel like the luckiest witch in the world.

And it seemed as though he smiled every time he looked at her. She’d never seen him so blissed out. Before they’d started seeing each other, he’d always been restless, on the prowl for his next hookup. But now the only time he was restless was when she wouldn’t let him come.

But he begged for that, so she didn’t feel too guilty about making him wait.

Ever since they’d declared their feelings for one another, Hermione had been struck by the astonishing difference in him. She wasn’t sure how he was around other people, but with her, he’d abandoned his old arrogance in favor of affection. He was still snooty as hell, but his pompous sneer hadn’t been seen in months.

He was devoted solely to her, and Hermione was just as enamored of him. Draco was the horny, snuggly boyfriend she’d never had the time for in her youth. He wanted to hold hands and snog, but he also wanted to hump her in the lift like a booty burglar. That insatiable sex drive turned her on just as much as his earnest ardor.

And he was the only one who offered her the chance to take the lead in bed. Hell, he pleaded for it—usually naked on his knees. Sometimes they kept things fun and just rolled around, shagging and kissing and giggling. But more often he wanted her to take on the role of Mistress Granger. She certainly understood the desire to be dominated, so she knew what Draco wanted.

With Snape and Lucius she could just lose herself and they would take over. But with Draco she got to explore her flip side, the side that mesmerized men with her sexual skills and titillating talents, the side that was a passionate powerhouse . . . who knew the value of caring.

Lucius was starting to let her care for him a little, and Snape seemed to be warming up in his own way; but Draco reveled in her nurturing. He craved the hugging just as much as he craved the discipline. And that was saying a lot, because he fucking _loved_ the discipline.

Hermione had quickly become adept at turning his adorable arse red. All she had to do was take what she learned in her sessions with Snape and apply it to Draco. It wasn’t rocket science to alter the humiliation and teasing to fit his anatomy. The more she learned about her own submissive turn-ons, the more she learned about his.

He wanted to be controlled sexually, just like her. He wanted to be taken care of, just like her. He wanted to let go, just like her. She understood him on a level most people never would. He didn’t need to explain his needs. She lived them.

And Hermione was surprised how exciting it was to unleash her inner femme fatale. No one had ever told her how pleasurable it was to have real control—not the illusion of control that she was used to. It was totally different to see the immediate realization of her wishes coming true right before her eyes. Instant gratification. She loved the rush of enticement and the goddess-like power that came from being the source of his arousal.

Was that thrill what inspired Lucius and Snape? She suspected Severus got off on the mental challenge. Lucius was less easy to pinpoint. Like Snape, he seemed to fear losing control. But maybe he just didn’t understand how to be receptive. He was a “do to” not a “done unto” sort of fellow.

She hoped that, in time, Lucius would come to trust her with more than his dick. There were times where he seemed to be on the verge of totally opening up to her, and it gave her hope that he had Draco’s capacity for change. 

Snape's trust . . . that might be a longer endeavor. He shared some kind of love with Lucius, but she didn’t think they really opened up to one another; they would view that as reckless. But she was fairly certain Severus was intrigued by her intimacy with Draco. Maybe that meant he wanted something similar.

Hermione hadn’t seen them all together since the last time in the library. She’d been so caught up in getting to know them individually that she’d let the foursome languish. 

But now that things had settled, her thoughts kept meandering back to the idea of being overtaken by the pack. There was a niggling sensation of need growing in her gut—something missing from her life that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Granger?”

Hermione jumped and looked around. She’d forgotten where she was for a moment. Her report was on the desk before her, her sentence half-finished.

Draco smirked at her dazed expression. “Can I come over tonight?”

“Of course you can,” she said with an embarrassed smile, chagrined at being caught mid-daydream. “Is something wrong? You look kind of tense.”

“I’m just sick of the office. Are you ready to go?”

She nodded. “Just let me finish this and we can leave.”

Draco visibly relaxed but then glanced over his shoulder as if expecting eavesdroppers. When he turned back to her, the corner of his mouth was curled in sly smirk. “I’ve been a bad boy today, miss. I’m very dirty.”

Hermione grinned. “Sounds like you need a bath.”

He nodded vigorously.

“Then let’s go back to my flat,” she said, scrawling out the rest of her sentence and filing the form away in her desk for the next day. Looking up coyly through her lashes, she gave him a sly smile of her own. “And you know how much I _love_ getting my dirty boy clean.”

His grey eyes darkened.

“Now get over here and give me a hug. I missed you today.”

Draco had her cocooned in the corner of her cubicle before she could blink, his arms around her waist and his face hidden in her hair. “Not as much as I missed you,” he groaned under his breath.

Hermione pulled him closer and laid her head on his shoulder, stroking the downy hair at nape of his neck with the tips of her fingers. He sighed into her curls as if he’d just nuzzled nirvana.

Kissing his chest, she felt the thump of his heart pounding against her lips. Hermione smiled.

It was time to show Draco the therapeutic power of submission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Changes" by David Bowie. Written by David Bowie. Released on the album Hunky Dory in 1971, but as a single in 1972. It is one of four of Bowie's songs to be included in The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame's 500 Songs that Shaped Rock and Roll.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=BPPSu0vaNWA>
> 
> Intermission--A break between parts of a play, movie, or concert.


	28. Refrain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next chapter is Lucius and I want to make sure I do the scene justice (it's one of my favorite sex scenes). I'm guessing it'll take me as long as this one took. But the chapter after that (Snape) is 90% ready, so it shouldn't take long. Hope you all enjoy Draco here :)

28—Refrain

“Bad, bad, bad, bad, boy, you make me feel so good.”—Gloria Estefan

(Draco)

Hermione pulled him into her flat and set her briefcase by the door before whisking off her cinched twill jacket in a smooth flourish. _So efficient_ , Draco thought with an affectionate smile. She was a walking wet dream in her work suit—the way her pencil skirt hugged her arse was a miracle, and her fitted blouse followed the arc of her breasts like a second skin. Too bad she always had some blasted jacket covering up the best bits. And robes on top of that.

Draco liked how commanding she looked, but he didn’t like trying to grope her through six layers of material. Well, he _enjoyed_ it; he just found it difficult. His gaze followed the sway of her back and settled on the curve her bum. How he loved to see her peel away the trappings of the “working girl” to reveal the woman beneath. It was like a personality striptease.

Sliding his hands around her waist, Draco drew her body against his and pressed his nose into her bushy curls. She smelled of honey and vanilla and . . . Hermione. His body immediately relaxed, sinking into her sweet scent.

After the day he’d had, he just wanted to forget the fucking Ministry and lose himself in his witch. Hermione always made everything better. He didn’t know what Severus and his father were doing with her, but Draco was  having the time of his life. Despite her studious appearance and pertinacious work habits, Granger was a desirous witch. She was constantly touching him, smiling at him, making him feel like the luckiest wizard to ever walk the planet.

It was as if she knew him inside and out—and she didn’t seem to mind all the occlusions she found lurking beneath his surface. Her approval meant everything to him, and to have her embrace his best along with his worst brought him a sense of peace and belonging he’d forgotten was possible.

Hermione patted his hand and leaned back into him. “Mmmm,” she purred. “There’s my sweet boy. Are you ready for that bath now, or did you want to eat first?”

Draco cupped a breast in one hand and pulled her closer. “Bath.”

Her hips rolled against his groin, calling his cock to attention. Draco winced and stifled his moan on the top of her head. She wasn’t wasting any time, was she?

“Come on, love. Let’s get you into the tub. I know you need to unwind.” She spun around in his arms and mischievously smiled up at him. “Did you want to be my bad boy tonight or my good boy?”

Sweet Salazar! Was she trying to make him pass out? He’d need at least a modicum of blood in his brain to navigate the flat. Draco touched his forehead to hers and took a deep breath to steady his racing pulse. “I’m always your good boy.”

Her smile widened, and she tipped up her chin to kiss his lips. “Yes, you are. And good boys get the nicest rewards.” Her hands smoothed over his chest and crept beneath the front of his suit jacket; brushing her palms over his shoulders, she began to push it off, skimming down his arms to free him from its confining lines.

Draco had worn his pale pink dress shirt and light grey Italian suit that day, perfectly accessorized with his white and grey silk tie. He had the ideal frame for the suit’s slim cut, and most importantly, he liked to catch her ogling his arse when he took off his robes at lunch. 

Although his cock was currently at odds with its dwindling accommodations, he still felt he’d made the right choice. She was getting an eyeful, her gaze lingering on his package as if it were Christmas morning and she wanted to rip him open.

“You look nice today,” she commented blithely, one finger tripping over the buttons binding his shirt.

“Thank you, miss.”

Her eyes shot to his, and a secretive smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “Let’s get you out of those clothes.” Gripping the point of his tie, she dragged him down to her level. “I’ve got just the thing to take your mind off the day.”

Her husky voice feathered over his lips, and Draco’s mouth parted to breathe her in.

“First I need to get you naked,” she whispered, her nimble fingers tugging the knot at his throat.

Draco’s eyes fluttered shut as she brushed a soft kiss against his cheek. “Yes, miss.”

She slipped his tie from his collar and dropped it on the table by the door. “Then I’ll get you nice and clean in the tub. Does that sound good?”

Good? It sounded like heaven. Granger gave the best baths. He grunted in agreement, too busy tracking her path across his belt for a proper answer.

“Was that a yes?” she asked, tapping the buckle with a patient _tick_ _tick_ _tick_ of her fingernail.

“Yes, miss,” he whimpered. “Please!”

She swiftly pulled open his belt and traced the button at his waist as if admiring its circularity. “Your trousers are getting very tight, love. Do I need to undress you right now?”

“Please unzip me, miss. I just need some more room.”

Hermione tilted her head and gave him a sympathetic nod. “It looks like you need a _lot_ more room.”

With staggering dexterity, she flicked open the top of his trousers and promptly lowered the zip, her palm cupping his aching erection as she parted his flies. Draco hissed at the sudden shift and grope. He was grateful for the breathing room, but his underwear was still dragging him in the wrong direction. And she wouldn’t stop rubbing him, gripping his shaft through that last layer, her fingers wriggling down to tickle his balls.

“Thank you, miss,” he growled through gritted teeth. Taking a deep breath, Draco closed his eyes and concentrated on each inhale and exhale. Coming as soon as they walked through the door wouldn’t look good on his record.

There was a gentle tugging around his hips—Hermione pushing his trousers to the floor and then drawing his boxer briefs over his thighs. Peeking through his slitted lids, he watched as she knelt to pull down his underwear all the way to the floor, as if she were undressing a child. His straining cock bobbed in her face, but she only gave it a passing glance.

“Toe off your shoes for me,” she said, patting one loafer through the pile of material.

Draco felt absolutely ridiculous being naked from the waist down. His hard-on kept pushing out from under his shirt like a kid peeking through the curtain at a theatre. Didn’t she want him naked? He started to unbutton his shirt as he kicked off his shoes.

Hermione gently slapped away his hands and motioned for him to come forward. “Step out of your clothes.”

He was disappointed when she leaned back to give him room—quite liking the idea of plowing into her face—but for some unfathomable reason she seemed more interested in his socks than his cock. 

Hermione ran her fingers along his calf and looked up at him. “Lift your foot.”

When he did so, she peeled off his sock and tossed it over her shoulder.

“Other one."

Draco couldn’t believe he was letting her do this to him two feet from the front door. Merlin’s beard, what if someone stopped by?

“We’re almost done,” she said brightly. “Just your shirt.”

“I could have had it off by now,” he muttered under his breath.

Hermione popped back up and started on the remaining buttons. “First of all,” she said in a firm, but seductive, tone, “I didn’t want you to get cold while I took off your trousers. Secondly, I intend to take care of you tonight, and that means _I_ undress you. Is that clear?”

Draco’s head was spinning. She was going to “take care of him”? What did that entail? And why did hearing it make his dick go completely mad? “Yes, miss.”

Hermione smiled and undid his cuffs before helping him out of his shirt. “There, now. Doesn’t that feel better?”

Blinking, Draco searched his brain for a word to describe how he was feeling. Better might not be the most accurate description. Loose and wild came to mind, but not before vulnerable. Vulnerable? Yes. Even though she’d seen him naked a hundred time, there was something about the way she stripped him that left him feeling exposed and on display.

But that wasn’t all bad.

There was always a moment with her where he felt out of control, as if he was plunging down a mountain in a child’s red wagon with no brakes. But if he gave in to the thrill of the experience, the flare of panic would fade and then transform, leaving him basking in the soft glow of her assurance and strength.

That was exactly what he needed to feel better: adventurous security. He knew it was asking a lot of a witch to embody opposing ends of the spectrum, but she seemed to naturally radiate both excitement and protection.

Hermione wrapped her hand around his cock and lightly stroked. “It looks like you’re all ready for your bath.”

Shivering with anticipation, Draco nodded.

“See,” she said wryly, “you _are_ cold.”

Draco kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t cold at all. Feverish was more like it.

“I’d better warm you up.” Keeping hold of his shaft, she turned and started for the bathroom. 

Draco followed after her—and his cock. He saw Crooks observing them from the kitchen doorway as they passed through the front room, and Draco almost burst into a fit of nervous laughter. He didn’t know why he should be embarrassed to be seen by that cat—Merlin knew Crookshanks had witnessed far more depraved interactions—but he could swear those yellow eyes were rolling. Perhaps Crooks was perturbed that his nap would, once again, need to be relocated.

Or, more likely, he was wondering how Draco had been stripped and enslaved in less than five minutes.

Draco shrugged at the cat as if he couldn’t explain himself and then dutifully turned down the hall to accompany his mistress into her tiled paradise.

Once in the bathroom, Hermione released him in order to stopper the drain and start the water. Draco’s dick struggled to maintain contact, straining toward her as if it could drag him across the floor like a team of horses. Draco told it to behave, but his entreaty was cut short when she began to unbutton her blouse.

Hermione smiled at him as she slowly revealed the white lace of her bra. The dark pink of her areolae were enticingly visible behind the sheer material, and his mouth began to water at the sight of her tight nipples reaching out for his touch.

“Come get in the tub,” she said, waving him over. “I’ll go find a flannel.”

Draco angled his hips to slide past her, but she caught him by the waist and pressed her body to his in a quick spin, moving him toward the tub and her toward the door. His erection was trapped in the middle, and the partially naked dance had his cock weeping with desperation.

“Go on and get warm.” One hand roamed over his flank, and she gave his arse a friendly squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”

Draco nodded obediently. He wanted to stay right there and rut against her like a dog, but he knew better than to push his luck. A spanking wouldn’t be unwelcome, but at the moment, corporal punishment wasn’t really what he was after.

He wanted her to make him forget the day, forget the hassles of the office, forget all the little annoyances that grated at his patience. A sore bum was one way to clear his mind, but he was enjoying this pre-aftercare she’d chosen for the itinerary.

Stepping into the swirling water, Draco breathed out a sigh of relief. She’d gotten the temperature perfect: warm enough to soothe, but not hot enough to boil his bollocks. When he sank down into it, his stomach unknotted, and he closed his eyes, lingering in the relaxation. He’d been too tense lately; it had been eating at him for weeks, but he was grateful for the respite he found in Hermione’s flat.

Just as he was settling back against tub, Hermione breezed back into the room, a white flannel in her hand, her heels nowhere to be seen. She must have kicked them off in the hall. A lazy grin tugged at his mouth, and he slung one arm over the ledge and beckoned her closer.

“Get in with me,” he murmured. “It’s nice and warm.”

Hermione smiled but shook her head. “No. I said I was going to give you a bath, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“You’re not getting in with me?” he asked in disbelief. How was he supposed to bathe alone?

“Nope.” Kneeling down on the floor next to him, she gestured toward his feet. “Now stretch out your legs. Bath time starts with the wiggling piggies.”

Draco snorted indelicately, but did as she requested. He enjoyed a good foot fondling as much as the next bloke, so if she wanted to go to such lengths, he was all for the extra bells and whistles.

After wetting the flannel in the water, Hermione wrapped it around his foot and smoothly massaged the line of each metatarsal. He groaned as the delicate muscles connecting each toe gave way to her deft manipulations.

A single fingertip ghosted along the curve of his arch, and Draco jumped, glaring at her grinning mug. “No tickling!”

Hermione snickered. “Are you suuuure?” Another feathery stroke crawled up his sensitive sole.

His leg jerked to the side. “Stop! You’re making me batty.”

Laughing, she went for the other foot. “Okay, okay. How’s this feel?”

She slid a single digit between his toes, skiing though the valley at the base. It sort of tickled, but mostly it made his cock ache. “I guess that’s good.”

With a knowing nod, she started up his left leg. “Did you get to play today?”

“Play? Not that I recall. Unless what we did in the lift at lunch was playing.”

“That’s why you’re so stressed. Growing boys need to work out their excess energy by playing.”

Ah. He could think of many games that might drain his tension. Water weasel. Sunken treasure. Hide the submarine. “What did you have in mind?”

Her hand skated up his inner thigh, grazing the edge of his sac and toying with his pubic hair. “I think since you’ve been such a good boy, you should show me how you touch yourself. Let's call it solo suds.” Her fingers drummed against his length, making him bounce against the surface of the water. “Stroke your cock clean for me, and I’ll . . . see what I can do about the rest of you.”

Draco smirked and gripped himself loosely in one hand. “Am I allowed to come?”

“Not until I say so.” 

 _Mmmm_ _! Yes,_ _Misstress_ _Granger._ Shifting his foreskin up over his glans, he left his leaking tip just visible—he knew she liked to see how turned on he was—then drew it back down until it just cleared his corona. He loved wanking for her, and he always tried to last as long as possible just to keep her eyes on his prize. Unfortunately, being told he couldn’t come tended to have the opposite effect, pushing him right up to the edge with a single order. But still, unbelievably, his mouth spouted out the one request that would cut that sliver of restraint in half. “Can I see your tits?”

She met his eyes, and the flare of heat he saw there made his balls quiver. “If you keep being my good boy,” she whispered, “I’ll let you suck my tits when you get out. Would you like that?”

“Very much,” he rasped.

“Then don’t come until I tell you.” Leaving him to his agonizingly slow wank, she reached back and unhooked her bra. Her breasts suddenly appeared, round and proud, jiggling from their lacy prison like jelly convicts.

Draco was fairly certain he heard angels singing, but he might have just been hallucinating from lack of blood flow to the brain. No matter how many times he saw those magnificent mounds, each unveiling was as rapturous as the first. He knew her body by heart, and he could vividly recreate every sight, feel, smell, and sound she had to offer; but the memories his brain liked best all involved her perfect breasts. He would convince his cock to settle in for an extended wank if it meant he could spend his evening in the presence of such baptacular beauty.

Her plans, however, must have been of the short-term variety, because she immediately cupped his bollocks and rubbed him under the water, rolling each testicle against her palm and palpating the back of his sac as if she were testing a melon. Dammit. That wasn’t playing fair. How was he supposed to last with her influencing his boys like that?

Her fingers slid behind his scrotum, and Draco spread his legs wider so she could get to his perineum. _Gods, she’s good at this_. His dick was already flexing and throbbing, and he had to take a timeout to squeeze some sense back into his knob.

“Are you ready for me to get you clean?”

Merlin’s baggy balls, how much cleaner could he get? “Yes, miss.”

Her pink lips curled in a wicked grin. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

Stop? Why would he want her to stop?

She picked up the soap and lathered it to a thick froth then methodically coated each digit in sudsy white film. When she went back under his balls, her slick fingers skated over his perineum and grazed his arse. His dick went berserk, struggling in his hand like a wild animal. _Oh gods!_ She did it again, this time lightly stroking his pucker the way you’d pet a cat between the eyes. She’d touched him back there before, but the first three times he’d come on her in mere seconds.

No wonder she’d felt the need to warn him.

Her finger tapped right at the threshold, bouncing against the knot of his entrance as if debating whether to stay and play or try another location. Draco flattened his feet firmly on the tub’s textured bottom and levered his hips toward her hand, whimpering in the most unmanly way. He couldn’t help it; the semen gathering in his bollocks was about to burst from his body in a geyser of ejaculation. Squeezing his glans as hard as he could, he fought the rush. “I can’t make it. I’m gonna come.”

She went still, leaving her finger resting at the gate. “Whenever you get close, just tell me, and I’ll stop moving. But I intend to get you exceedingly clean now. Tell me when you’re ready for more.”

Exceedingly clean? He was going to be sparkling like a damn diamond in a minute. His pelvis gradually relaxed, and when he felt the pre-orgasmic rush settle to an achy roar, he nodded to indicate she could continue.

Hermione’s middle finger pressed on his backdoor, and he suddenly understood what she meant by “exceedingly clean.” His cock loved the idea, having wanked to the thought of her finger fucking his bum about a million times over the years. _Dammit, Dicky! Cool it!_ He wrestled his erection into a manual lockdown. _Don’t ruin this for me_.

“All right?”

Draco nodded, not trusting his vocal cords to produce anything other than a high-pitched squeak.

She applied a little pressure, and his body bore down, begging for more. He'd never told her what all he'd done to himself over the years. That would be far too embarrassing. Luckily, she'd taken it upon herself to explore the territory. He'd never been with a witch who'd gone for the dark side of the moon so fearlessly. God bless Gryffindor bravery. But despite all his eagerness, his heart was going a mile a minute. Although he’d engaged in some anal fun over the years, he'd always been the penetrator rather than the penetratee. Letting another person invade his body was way more intense than he’d ever imagined.

Her finger wiggled partway into his tract, and Draco froze, holding his breath and concentrating on the sensation of being entered. By Hermione. He’d been buggering himself with various implements since his mid-teens, but he had a sudden flashback to his first rectal experiment—a particularly slutty carrot that had been taunting him in the kitchen for days on end. This was just as magical as that initial impalement, his body, mind, and spirit amazed by the unlimited pleasure his body could provide. But having Hermione impart that pleasure made it infinitely more sublime. Her eyes were soft with understanding, her fingers calm and sure. She wasn’t poking and prodding like a fumbling neophyte—she was turning his arsehole into somethings divine, blessing it with a seductive benediction.

“You like that?” she murmured.

Draco nodded and squeezed his cock.

Her finger sank a little deeper. She was moving slowly, which relaxed him psychologically, but physically, he was going stark raving mad, his body wailing for more.

“You’re not getting close, are you?”

"Yes, miss."

Hermione smiled. “Don’t come yet. I mean it.”

Draco nodded and pinched his frenulum to keep the eruption at bay. She gently screwed the digit into him, sinking in until he felt the knuckles of her hand butting up against his cheeks.

“Have you done this before?”

He nodded. “Only by myself.”

With a benevolent curl, she brushed his prostate, and a tingling shudder rippled up his spine. _Oh Gods!_ She knew what she was doing. Had she done this before? He couldn’t imagine Snape or his father inviting her to finger their arse. Maybe she’d just read about it. He didn’t really want to think about her practicing such an intimate technique on another man. She’d touched him deeper than anyone ever had—both literally and figuratively—and he wanted what they shared to be as meaningful to her as if was to him.

Hermione rhythmically stimulated that blissful little nugget, keeping the beat like a sexual majorette. His resolve cracked. Usually he could control himself until she gave the word, but no man should be expected to last with that kind of ecstasy assailing his senses. He stopped stroking, choosing instead to devote his efforts to prolonging her internal celebration.

“I know you’re ready, Draco. Hold off as long as you can.”

“I don’t think I can take any more,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

“You mean you want me to stop?”

“No! I just can’t hold off.”

“Take your hand off your dick.”

He automatically assumed their usual “hand-off” position, interlocking his fingers atop his head to give her full access to his body. The prostatic metronome maintained its steady rhythm, but then she gripped his leaking hard-on in her free hand, and Draco almost arched out of the water. _Shit_ _shit_ _shit_ _!_

“You can touch me if you like.”

 _Oh thank Merlin!_ He reached out and palmed her breast in one hand, her nipple stiff against his fingers. Tweaking it, he teased her tip to the tempo she'd chosen.

“Okay. You may come now,” she said quietly.

Draco reached down and clasped his hand around hers, tightening her grip. That was all it took. His balls clenched, and his pelvis spasmed with a bombardment of dazzling contractions. And through every rapturous  explosion, she massaged his pulsating prostate, urging out an unholy flood of semen from, what felt like, the depths of his soul. His entire lower body was nothing but  a throbbing mass of joy. She had his cock precisely aimed so that his his chest and belly took his full load, baptizing him in his own release.

Shivering, Draco closed his eyes and rolled through the aftermath. His heart was hammering, but he could barely hear it over the euphoric buzz in his brain.

“Feeling better?” she asked with a grin

“Immensely,” he whispered, unable to find any volume for his voice.

“Should I keep cleaning you?”

“Maybe you should let me rest a few minutes. I’m all out of cleaning fluid.”

Hermione chuckled as she carefully pulled out, leaving his arse feeling decidedly sad and empty. “It’s a good thing you’re in the tub. You’ve made a right mess of yourself.”

“No, _you_ made a mess of me,” he said with a tired smile. “How will I ever pay you back? One finger or two?”

Laughing, she shook her head. “I’m not done taking care of you yet.”

His brow quirked. “No? Okay, I’m up for another round of naughty nanny. What’s next? Are you going to punish me for not eating my vegetables by sitting on my face?”

She snorted as she washed her hands in the water. “No. But I am going to clean off all this sticky cum so you’re not plastered to the sheets later.”

“Is it bedtime already? I promise not to touch myself tonight Nanny Granger; you don’t have to tie my hands to the headboard again.”

“Stop calling me Nanny Granger,” she snickered. “You’re making me feel like a old spinster.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he quipped.

Laughing, she began his bath anew, rinsing away his semen and teasing his nipples as she stroked his chest. She looked lovely leaning over him like that, bare-breasted, frizzy hair backlit by a halo of fluorescent bathroom lights. He’d never known anyone who made bad lighting look so good.

Once she’d finished both his arms, she wrung out the flannel and draped it over the edge of the tub.

“Come on,” she said, holding out her hand. “Let’s dry you off and get you tucked into bed.”

Draco’s stomach did a double backflip into his liver. That might have been one of the hottest things anyone had ever said to him. How did she know what would melt him faster than ice cream in July? _Did_ she know? Or was she just talking, playing on his usual fantasies?

Hermione shook out a plush white towel and opened her arms to him. Draco stood on shaky legs, rivulets of water trailing down his body like threads of ice. As soon as she saw him shiver, she leaned in and bundled him a heated hug, the towel having been charmed for warmth. Bloody hell. When she said she was going to take care of a wizard, she meant it. And for some unknown reason, her gentle blotting was making him hard again. She wasn’t even below his belt line yet.

When she did travel south, she skipped his package and went straight to his thighs. Hermione waved him from the water, and when he stepped out, she got his calves and feet, drying his entire body but leaving his bits to air out.

She double-checked him for any missed spots then smiled up at him and went for the goods. She dabbed his bobbing erection and pressed the towel between his thighs to get at his sac. Draco grunted and spread his legs to encourage her to keep going, but she tapped his thigh to get him to turn.

Draco closed his eyes and sighed as she thoroughly dried his arse. Too bad her cleaning efforts wouldn’t last. His dick was already cocked and loaded, preparing to leak at the least provocation. He had a feeling she knew that.

Hermione stood and unzipped her skirt. She wiggled it over her hips and let it drop to the floor; then she rolled down her tights and stepped out of them, leaving just her forest-green silk knickers.

Without a word, she took his hand and led him across the hall to her room. Once she was settled in the bed, she patted the mattress next to her, and he leapt at the opportunity. Curling into her, Draco inhaled her scent, which effectively shut off his brain and switched on his hips, and Hermione budged up against the pillows so his head rested on her breast. Was that an invitation to indulge?

He nuzzled the round flesh as she combed her fingers through his hair and tickled the nape of his neck with her pinky. That was definitely encouragement. Kissing his way over to her rose quartz areola, he laved one pliant nipple, drawing it out to play. When it was beautifully peaked, he took her in his mouth with a hungry growl. Gasping quietly, she pressed him closer and arched into his face. Gods! He wanted to smother himself in all that skin.

She was like butterscotch on his tongue, her steamy skin dripping over his taste buds and coating them in her flavor. She was sweet and salty, musky and delicious. If he could, he would have eaten every meal off her body, blending her essence with each mouthful. She was the secret ingredient he didn’t know he’d been missing.

His tongue wound around her stiffening tip, swiping over the puffy boundaries of her areola and teasing her until she growled. That was his signal to switch sides. 

By the time he’d sucked both her nipples raw, she was writhing like a beast and tearing at his hair. He fucking loved that. He wanted her to get rougher, to lose control because of him. He wanted her to take her pleasure from him and ride him ragged. He wanted to be hers.

Skimming his hand down her naked belly, he crept into her knickers. Was she ready for more? He was about to find out. His middle finger traced her slit, and he groaned when he discovered the profuse satin spilling from her folds. Was it the nipple play that had done that, or did she _really_ love giving him a bath? He eased his finger deeper, eliciting a wanton moan and inciting a flurry of hip pops. _Yesssss_.

Her nails scraped up the back of his scalp, digging in when he peeled off her panties to press his lips to her mons. A strategic pelvic curl brought her clit into the kiss, and Draco slipped his tongue along the silken line of her slit.

“That’s it,” she breathed. “Show me what a good boy you are.”

Draco grunted in excitement and dove in, gobbling up her honeyed sex in a tempest of tongue and teeth. She cried out and bucked into his face, riding the storm like a veteran jockey atop a thoroughbred. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and when she yanked him closer, making his roots scream, he ground his cock into the comforter to staunch the steady drip flowing from his weeping glans.

“Lower, love! Lick my pussy.”

He grinned, shifting down to lap at her entrance. Oh Sweet Beetle of the Bard! How could one witch make so much juice? It was pooled just inside her opening, waiting for him to slake himself with her passion. Slurping loudly so she could feel it as well as hear it, he sucked the cream from her core. He used to do that when he was a child: sucking the center from a chocolate like a candy vampire. It seemed that had been good preparation for a future with Granger.

His tongue shot up her channel, and he lapped at her swollen walls, trying to get as deep as he could, searching for more sweet filling to sate his appetite.

“OH FUCK!” she shouted, banging her head against the bed. “Finger my arse, Draco. I’m so close!”

Draco picked up his head to catch his breath. She looked absolutely deranged, which was exactly how he thought a witch should look on the brink of orgasm. He pushed back her legs with both hands to see if her pussy and arsehole were equally insane.

Her tiny little whorl looked far too dry for fingering. Or perhaps her pussy was setting an unnaturally high standard for lubrication. He’d better get it nice and wet first.

“Go on,” she panted. “It’s safe. I cleaned it when I got the flannel.” 

Draco eyebrows quirked into an inquisitive arch, a crafty smile twitching at his lips. _Did you now? Let’s just see about that._ Licking his lips, he spread her cheeks with his thumbs and inspected her winking sphincter. It was absolutely adorable, pink and brown and framed in a downy wreath of dwindling pubes. When he spread her open, she whimpered alluringly, bidding him to partake—a meal he'd been dreaming of for months.

 _Your wish is my command_.

Reverently bowing his head, he placed a soft kiss on her tiny rosette.

“Draco!”

Instead of answering, he swiped his tongue along her crack and swirled over her backdoor.

She shuddered and spread her legs; Draco knew she was staring down at him, watching him, waiting to see what he’d do next. He didn’t look up. She hadn’t told him to eat her arse, so technically, he was disobeying her order. But he wanted to showcase one of his many talents and wow her with his rim job skills. If he got her hooked on the feeling, she might ask him to do it all the time.

Or _tell_ him to do it.

Oh, gods! He started to hump her comforter, his dick pounding on the mattress and demanding relief. He didn’t know why the thought of her forcing his face into her arse turned him on so much, but he knew that he would gladly spend eternity licking every inch of her body.

Circling her crinkled target with the most delicate strokes, he lured her into his web of enticement. She’d stopped making any noise, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. Usually it meant she was too overcome to speak, but he’d sprung this on her rather suddenly.

When he pressed his mouth to her hole, his nose bumped her pussy, and he found himself coated in her nectar. Tapping at her bum with the tip of his tongue, Draco inhaled her arousal as he tasted her arse.

Just like her sex, the flavor was musky and dark. Rich like ninety percent dark chocolate—so earthy he didn’t know if he’d ever see straight again. But then the tip of his tongue discovered what must have been a repository of sugar, because he had never tasted anything so sweet in all his life. Burrowing his nose into the cup of cream filling her channel, he attempted to plunge his entire tongue up her bum and lick out whatever candy she was hiding in her rectum.

“UNH!” Hermione grabbed the back of his head and scrabbled for a handhold of hair.

Draco moaned, and that must have set her off, because she started to grind into his face, babbling incoherently as she rode his nose.

Huffing and gasping into her crevice, Draco ignored his sparkling vision to take her over the edge. He’d breathe later. With a hand on either cheek, he pulled her as wide as he could and sealed his lips around her pucker. Sucking deeply, he stiffened his tongue and pierced her with its length. Nose edging up her cunt, he shook his head back and forth in a rapid nononono.

“Ahhhhhhh!” Her lower body trembled in time with her wailing, and the fingers in his hair clenched hard enough to make his eyes water.

Draco took that as confirmation to continue. 

“Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!”

Definitely a favorite by the sounds of things.

Her walls tightened around his tongue, and her muscles tried to expel him in a seizure of contractions. This was it: she was about to blow.

Draco moaned again, stimulating as much as he could with breath and sound. Her hips went mad, and she jerked against him as she came, adding a fast hard thump to his rattling oral action.

“UUUUUuuuuuuunhhhh!”

The liquid in her pussy grew thicker and then spilled down her crevice. Draco could feel her cunt pulsating against his face like a heartbeat. For several spacey seconds it felt as if he was one with her orgasm, as if it was his as much as hers, as if her minge had linked up with his brain and merged its consciousness with his.

Or maybe he really needed some oxygen.

In a sudden release, she dropped her arms and legs flat against the bed as if someone had stolen all her bones. “FUCK!”

Draco pulled back and inhaled sharply, the cool air of the room filling his lungs in a wave of rapture. He rested his forehead on her thigh and smiled to himself. Apparently his father and Snape hadn’t taken her on any analingus adventures yet; she sounded thoroughly flattened.

He felt her petting his hair, and raised his head to meet her gaze. She was grinning at him, looking devilishly satisfied.

“That was brilliant,” she croaked.

Draco smiled and shimmied up for his job-well-done kiss. Her lips were warm against his, dry from all the panting and shouting. He had just the remedy for such an affliction. Brushing his lips over hers, he spread her secretions across her hungry mouth and pressed his tongue to hers, giving her a taste of her saccharine bum. She certainly wasn’t hesitant about tasting herself, a quality that he found extremely erotic, especially when it came from a witch who appeared too proper for such crudity.

When he leaned back to breathe, she smiled and swiped away the juices he’d smeared on her cheek; but instead of wiping it off on the sheets, she stuffed her thumb in her mouth and sucked it clean. Draco groaned and dove back in, licking the honey from her tongue before she could swallow. She didn’t get to have all the fun. He’d earned that cream. Her damp thumb trailed down his face, marking him with her fluids, and Draco ground his anxious erection into her soft bush. A shaky growl passed from his lips to hers, and he shivered as her damp signature cooled on his cheekbone.

 _That’s it, mark me, love. Make me yours._ He wished she’d apply a bit of pussy war paint to his face every day. He’d be whipping his department into shape like a motherfucking boss with that kind of power seeping into his skin.

Kissing his way down her neck, he left a small love bite near her clavicle. It might be gone by the morning, but he wanted to leave her something to remember him by. Something to prove he was there, that he’d made her scream like a banshee. If Snape got to leave handprints all over her arse, he should be allowed at least five hickeys a visit. Fair’s fair.

Gliding down her to her chest, he kissed each of her nipples hello then rested his cheek against one jublee pillow. He could feel her heart pounding through her breastbone, the pace still at a rapid jog. “It sounds like enjoyed that,” he murmured into her nipple. “Now where’s my chocolate biscuit?”

She paused in her petting to giggle out a shaky, “What?”

“I was promised chocolate biscuits for good behavior.”

Laughing loudly, she ruffled his hair. “By whom?”

“Mother.”

“When?” she asked, suddenly quiet.

“When I was little. But I was never informed of any time limit. You’re waaaay behind. You owe me about three hundred biscuits.”

Hermione chuckled silently and stroked his head. “Do I? You’re in luck. I’ve been saving a special biscuit for you all day.”

"Really?" He could do with a snack.

“Yes,” she said in mock seriousness as she pushed on the top of his head. “Why don’t you go down and see if it’s ready?”

He smirked into her belly and kissed her navel as he passed. “Ah, my favorite. But I was in the mood for chocolate.”

“Then go get the chocolate sauce out of the fridge. I guess you can have dessert before dinner tonight.”

Draco sniffed around her muff like a hound dog. “I always adored the smell of baking. Is all this for me?”

“All you can eat,” she assured him.

Draco smiled. _Should have known she’d be raring for more after that last scream_. 

That was fine by him. He would never get enough of her. Ever. He needed to find a way to see her more. Life was too dull without his daily dose of Nanny Granger and her tasty biscuit. After all, a boy had to eat.

Slotting his tongue between her succulent lips, he started on his pre-meal dessert. Granger was the only appetizer that left him hungrier than when he started.

Seconds and thirds would definitely be in order. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad Boy" by Miami Sound Machine. Recorded and released in 1985. Written by Larry Dermer, Joe Galdo, and Rafael Vigil. Two videos were made for this song, the second one featuring Gloria Estefan (the lead singer for MSM) with the cast of the musical Cats.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=k1f_VfWBGTE>
> 
> Refrain--A repeating phrase that is played at the end of each verse in the song. (This will be explained in the next two chapters. Although the idea of "repeating" is also a comment on Draco's mindset and reasons for liking what he likes with Hermione. That'll come into play later.)


	29. Ornaments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow. Got this done way faster than usual. Whoohoo! Hopefully the Snape chapter after this will come just as quickly. I need to add some things to it.

29—Ornaments 

“If I gave you diamonds and pearls . . .”—Prince 

(Lucius)  

The bedroom began to spin. Damn. That couldn't be good. 

Lucius tore his mouth from hers, his need for air finally surpassing his libido. Apparently he wasn’t the only one in need of more oxygen; as soon as their lips parted, she gasped in a frantic lungful and stood there panting and blinking as if she couldn’t focus. He knew how she felt. 

Lucius loved seeing her so turned on, so absorbed in the pleasure that she forgot herself and became the very embodiment of desire. She looked bloody beautiful—her hair swept up to show off the earrings he’d gotten her, her naked body warm and vibrant against the cool silver wallpaper. He’d just finished removing the last of her clothing when he got sidetracked by the crimson flush creeping up her chest and neck. And then her mouth touched his, and he’d forgotten why they’d even come upstairs. Those lips of hers were extraordinarily distracting. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been snogging her against the bedroom wall, but it had been long enough that his cock had begun to weep for clemency. Her attempts to liberate him from knob-chafing trouser hell had been woefully unsuccessful. His shirt was unbuttoned but only half untucked, and she’d gotten his belt open but hadn’t yet freed him from the evil clutches his tyrannical zipper. 

And judging by that dazed glaze in her eyes, she might not even remember what the word zipper meant. He was in for a long night. 

Thank Merlin. 

Lucius trailed his fingers along her pink cheek and brushed his lips against hers, inwardly groaning when her warm breath ghosted over his mouth. Every cell in his body was attuned to her presence, resulting in an overstimulated state of maddening arousal. He pressed his forehead to hers to silence his importunate nerve endings. “What would you like to listen to tonight?” 

Her tongue snaked out and slicked his lower lip before she answered, “Beethoven.” 

“You always say Beethoven.” 

“You always pick Wagner. It’s like we're shagging in a war movie.” 

Chuckling under his breath, Lucius conceded with a nod. “Beethoven’s too depressing. How about Rachmaninov?” 

“Yes, but don’t turn it up too loud. I like to hear you.” 

“Hmmm,” he purred. “I never have _any_ problems hearing you.” 

Her chagrined smile was one of semi-embarrassment but mostly amusement. “Would you prefer me to restrain my groans the way you do?” 

“Most certainly not. And I’m not restraining anything.” 

“Then why do you clench your teeth so hard?” 

_Perceptive little witch_. “Habit.” 

Her grin widened, and she tickled her fingers along his jaw. “I wish you’d stop. You're going to get TMJ. And I keep telling you, I like to hear you.” 

Lucius didn’t know if he had the same capacity for unrestrained expression that she did. He wanted to let loose, but the first thing a Slytherin learns is to never reveal anything that might be used against him. Draco seemed to have missed that lesson—or he’d become so self-indulgent that he didn’t care. But Lucius had always maintained a safe distance from others. Not even Narcissa had scaled his carefully-constructed fortress; but she’d been raised on the same principles, so she never pushed the issue. They knew how to love one another while maintaining some secrets. Overt honesty was messy and dangerous—two things they both avoided at all costs. 

Hermione had been encouraging him to open up since they’d started dating, but the very notion left him queasy. He disclosed the bare minimum, and he supplemented his shortcomings with gifts, which he hoped would keep her satisfied. Or at least distracted. 

Lucius knew how stiff the competition was—literally—and he knew that if he was going to win her over, he needed to showcase his strongest assets. Maybe he wasn’t as effusive as Draco or as brilliant as Snape, but he could provide for her, and he could sweep her off her feet in ways that his son and lover couldn’t. He would have to make himself indispensable, because he didn’t even want to _imagine_ his life returning to its pre-Hermione banality. It wasn’t just the stupendous fucking; Lucius wanted her to be a part of his life. No one pushed him to be a better man the way Granger did. No one cared enough to try. Well . . . Snape cared, he just didn’t encourage Lucius to grow or change; they were both inured to the other’s flaws after so many years together.  

But while all that growth and change frightened Lucius at every turn, he couldn’t deny that he was beginning to catch glimpses of a world he’d never seen before—one of light and joy. A world wrought by Hermione. 

And that was priceless. 

His musings left him wondering how she was faring with Draco and Severus. While Lucius didn’t fully understand her attraction to Draco, it was obvious that the two of them worked well together. That had rankled him at first. He didn’t want to admit that he might have been wrong about Draco’s chances, mostly because that would mean his own chances weren’t as solid as he’d assumed. But her fondness for Draco didn’t seem to lessen her interest in Lucius or Severus, and as the months passed, Lucius grudgingly adapted to the idea of sharing her with his son. 

He still wasn’t sure how she could stomach Draco’s incessant neediness, but their involvement seemed to be doing wonders for both of them, which left Lucius questioning his own contributions to her welfare. Just because she was improving his life didn’t mean he was improving hers. What if Draco was a better fit for a young, warmhearted witch like Hermione? That was a bitter concept to swallow. 

But when he “jokingly” asked her what she saw in a greedy, old grouch such as himself, she vociferously insisted that she loved spending time with him and had never met another man who could squeeze every ounce of pleasure out of life the way he could. She told him he’d renewed her love for culture and reminded her how grateful she was to be alive in such a wonderful world. 

Lucius was touched by her words, but he wished he had something more tangible to prove their compatibility. He had no idea what that might be, but he longed for some kind of assurance of longevity. 

Perhaps that was just something that would come with time. He certainly never had any doubts about Severus sticking around. Was that simply because his oldest friend had proven himself faithful at every turn? Or had there been an instance where Lucius had suddenly just known that Severus would always be a part of him? He tried to think back, but his time at school was becoming more of a blur as he tacked on the years. Lucius was just relieved that, despite their co-dating of Granger, there was no love lost between them. Severus still came over once a week, and they still fucked the hell out of each other just like the old days. If anything, they were becoming closer, what with having Hermione in common and both of them being invigorated by the novelty of a new relationship. 

And he was glad they’d found a witch who didn’t seem to mind their involvement. Hell, “didn’t mind” was too mild. She couldn't get enough. When she did gather the courage to ask him about Snape, it was usually a hesitant question about how they did things sexually. He had the urge to tell her every sordid detail just to see her pupils dilate with arousal. But he didn’t. He was as lascivious as possible while revealing as little as he could. 

Lucius wasn’t totally sure what was happening between Hermione and the other two. Severus only mentioned her in passing, almost as if they were acquaintances rather than lovers. Lucius didn’t want to pry, but he was damn curious. Hermione talked about Snape obliquely if prodded, but she never just brought him up out of the blue. At first Lucius had interpreted her silence as validation that she preferred him over Severus or Draco, but he slowly began to see that it was kindness that kept her quiet. She didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. 

That was the sort of witch she was. She didn’t use their jealousy to manipulate them; she went out of her way to keep the peace. To make them happy. Or at least she was making _him_ happy. If Draco’s moronic mooning was any indication, he was happy too. Severus was impossible to read. Jubilation and misery were pretty much the same on that face. 

Although . . . he had noticed a lift in Snape’s usual scowl. Perhaps she was working her way under the Potion master’s skin too. The thought brought an unexpected smile to Malfoy’s lips. 

Flicking his wand at the phonograph, Lucius started the music. The sound filled the room from every angle, leaving them swimming in the soft serenade of a piano and its stringed companions. 

“I got you something to wear,” he whispered, sliding his hand along her naked hip. 

Hermione sighed and gave him a look of exasperation. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop buying me stuff? I’m starting to feel like a high-priced call girl.” 

“For your information, I didn’t buy it. And I know how much you object to my gifts, so I found a loophole.” 

“Oh really?” she countered with a smirk. “What kind of loophole?” 

He took her hand and led her over to the bureau. Several flat velvet cases were set out, and he touched the smallest one. “I’m not _giving_ these to you—I just want you to wear them. A harmless game of dress up.” 

“Dress up?” she said, sounding curious. “Will you be dressing up too? I’ve always wondered what you’d look like in a matador’s cape.” 

Lucius ran his hand down his face, holding back the snort tickling his sinuses. “Perhaps some other time. Tonight I want you to be my princess.” 

Lifting the case’s lid, he revealed an array of diamond and pearl bracelets. One was studded with rubies, and another was speckled with emeralds. A little Gryffindor for her, and a little Slytherin for him. Her eyes went wide as he pulled out the thickest diamond cuff. 

“I can’t wear that,” she sputtered. 

“Yes, you can,” he replied easily and lifted her arm to prove his point, laying the bracelet against her freckled skin. “Who else is going to wear them? They’re just gathering dust at Gringotts.” 

“Were these Narcissa’s?” she whispered, staring at her arm in horror. 

“No,” he assured her firmly. “They're family heirlooms. She wore them occasionally, but they weren’t hers.” 

Hermione looked up into his face as he placed the next bracelet around her wrist. “Lucius . . . I’m not her. You can dress me up all you like, but I’m never going to be Narcissa. Don’t torture yourself like this.” 

Lucius smiled softly and fastened the clasp. Her concern broke his heart, but that just made him all the more determined to bejewel her in his adoration. “I’m not torturing myself, and I promise I’m not trying to turn you into her. I could bury you in diamonds, and you would never be like Narcissa. I’ll admit you have some similarities, but even those are expressed in entirely different ways.” He got out the last three bracelets and put them on her other arm. “I’m not doing this to turn you into someone you’re not.” 

“Why are you doing it?” 

“Because . . .” He hadn’t analyzed his desires beforehand. “Because I . . .” Dammit. This was going to require some honesty. But she must already know how he felt about her. He was fucking her every week, wasn’t he? Dancing with her? Kissing her? He wasn’t fooling anyone. “Because it makes me feel better. I like seeing you wearing my gifts. I like seeing you looking beautiful, but I want to . . .” 

“Turn me into a work of art?” 

He smiled. “Exactly.” 

“So this is about making me prettier?” 

“No, not at all; you know I think you’re gorgeous. It’s about . . . making sure you know how I see you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ll show you in a minute.” 

Lucius opened the second largest box, and the multi-tiered diamond necklace sparkled on its velvet perch. 

“Lucius, that is way too much!” 

“Nonsense.” He pulled it out and carefully draped it over her chest, skimming his fingers along her throat to fasten it at the back. It covered the entire top of her breastbone, tapering to a point that trickled between her tits. She appeared to be dotted in ice. “Lovely. Just a couple more items.” 

Her hand rose and touched the necklace as if testing its reality. 

Lucius opened the next box and removed the crystal tiara. When she saw it, her eyes bulged in their sockets, and her accusatory gawp made it clear she thought he was stark raving mad. Undeterred, he pinned it to her head then opened the last box and extracted a mass of pearl necklaces. 

Shaking her head in denial, she held up her hand to stop him. “Too many accessories clutter an outfit.” 

He smirked. “We’ll see about that. Come over here.” 

Lucius wove his fingers through hers and escorted her to the full-length mirror in the corner. “Now,” he said, arranging her in front of him so he could watch her face in the reflection. “How do you feel?” 

She studied herself for several silent seconds then hesitantly touched the diamonds at her throat and shrugged. “I don’t know. Pretty?” 

He smiled. “Special?” 

“Yes.” She appeared worried by her answer. 

“You are special.” 

“Not really. I'm pretty normal.” 

Lucius looped two pearl strands around her neck. “You are as far from normal as a witch can get. I’ve known plenty of women in my day, but none like you.” 

Holding her to him with one arm, he dangled one pearl rope from his hand and splayed his fingers over her stomach so it drifted back and forth against her bush. His other hand glided over the curve of her bum, his palm spanning her divide and following its path until his fingers were tucked into the warm glen of her thighs. She whimpered and spread her legs, giving him just enough room to slither through and catch the dangling pearls on the tips of his fingers. Sliding his crooked finger back along her slit, he pulled the necklace snugly against her sex so the creamy beads lined her furrow front to back. _Exquisite_.  

In the mirror, her heated brown gaze met his, all hesitancy gone, washed away by surprise and intrigue. Lucius gave her a sly smirk and increased the pressure so the necklace edged into her folds and disappeared between her lips. As he slowly dragged the strand backward, trampling her engorged clitoris, a jagged gasp stuttered from her trembling lips. Her jaw dropped, and Lucius grinned. Surely those pearls were still a bit cold, having spent the last decade in the frigid depths of his vault. How long would it take her smoldering cunt to bring them back to room temperature? Five steamy seconds? Ten? Sawing the strand in the opposite direction, Lucius blitzed her with an about-face. A desperate moan echoed off the mirror, and she leaned into him as if her legs were beginning to go. 

“See how much my princess likes her pearls?” he purred above her ear. “Now let's see if I can make you love them.” 

He kept up the steady back and forth, slowly flossing her labia and then, when she settled into the tempo, startling her nubbin with a rumble of sudden speed. She threw her arm backward to hook around his neck and chanted his name under her breath like an orison for release. _Not_ _just_ _yet, my pet._ He would take her to the edge of bliss and then see if she wanted to be his treasure chest. 

When her pleas deteriorated to sobbing and her gyrations became dangerously physical, he released one end and zipped the string through her lips. 

“Unh!” 

“Did you want more?” 

Panting hard, she pried open her eyes and stared at him in the mirror. “Yes, sir.” 

“That’s my witch. Where should we bejewel you next?” His fingers suggestively skipped over her bum. 

“Please!” 

“Please what?” 

"Touch my arse. I need it.” 

Lucius bit his tongue to keep from laughing. “Why don’t you kneel on the bed and show me how _much_ you need it.” 

She practically ran to the bed and lunged into position, thrusting her bum into the air and spreading her legs to present the liquid line of her quim. Her hips refused to still, circling and shifting in an anxious dance of lust. Smiling to himself, Lucius retrieved the lube from the drawer and stood behind her so she couldn’t see what he was doing. 

“Did you use Snape’s rectal cleaning spell before you came over?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Of course she did. She always did. Anal play was the not-so-secret weapon that spurred her to the finish line in record time. He and Snape had been systematically stretching her for the past couple of months, preparing her for bigger and better possibilities. She could probably accommodate a real cock now, but they were waiting for the right moment to suggest adding buggery to the program. Severus assured him she wanted it, and since they both intended to be present for the initial penetration, a double date for deflowering would need to be scheduled soon. 

Bundling one pearlescent strand into a thick figure eight, Lucius touched it to her muff and swiped the bumpy surface along her cleft. She moaned and swayed toward him, bopping her hips up and down to increase the friction. Lucius mockingly tutted her impatience, but he wiggled a finger into the middle and pushed the first few beads inside her passage. She made a small noise of excitement and arched her back to give him all she had. With a patience he reserved strictly for the bedroom, Lucius pushed pearl after pearl into her hungry snatch, watching in fascination as her body swallowed the necklace and then drooled for more. 

“Now you’ve got a princess pussy too,” he quipped. “Does that feel nice?” 

“Mmmmunnnh,” she whimpered into the comforter. 

Lucius grazed her protrudent clit with the tip of his index finger. “I knew you’d love it. Those are just going to hold my place while I finish getting you ready.” 

Unfastening his trousers, he let his cock fall free, which left him reeling in a heady rush of liberation. Sweet Circe! He probably shouldn’t put that off for so long next time. 

When his eyes were able to focus once more, he picked up the lube and flipped open the top. At that telltale sound, Hermione went stone still . . . and then reached back with both hands to pull open her arse. Peals of laughter burbled in his gut, but Lucius managed to keep his cackling silent. _Nice assist, love._

He eased in one slick finger—zero resistance. Of course one was just a tease; she loved a good buildup. Lucius re-lubed her and added a second finger. Again, there was no resistance. But she did rock back into his hand and pull her cheeks even wider. His erection rose to watch the action. It knew all that slippery cream was for him, and the thought of dipping into her eager little pussy had his knob petitioning for early entry. Twisting his hand to stroke the ridged tract of her rectum, Lucius felt the uneven bulge of the pearls though her thin wall. His cock began to jump about, reminding him of the game plan before he got too distracted by the investigation. 

_Yes, yes, I know. Believe me I know_ , he told it.  

Lucius reluctantly left her bum and retrieved another necklace—the most bulbous of the bunch—which he quickly greased in lubricant. _If you liked those pussy pearls, you're going to love what we have in a nice anal accessory_. He had prepared the strands before she arrived, reinforcing the strings so they were indestructible. Nothing ruined a little backdoor fun like a toy stuck in one’s bowels. He’d leave a lot more sticking out this time to keep it from getting lost inside her, but he was positive the necklaces could withstand any amount of yankage without breaking. When she felt the pressure at her bum, she squeaked and tightened her grip, her fingertips going white with zeal.  

Using the tip of his middle finger, Lucius tamped the necklace up her arse, and the pearls slowly disappeared, like stars into a black hole. She began to moan and grind, her body gearing up for a proper fucking. _All in good time, love. You’re almost ready._

When he had about five inches left, Lucius flipped the remaining pearls onto her lower back and gently plucked at the strand in her sex. “This is quite possibly the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” 

She whimpered and bucked. “I’m so wet, sir.” 

“Yes, I can see that.” Lucius softly circled her clit while he pushed off his remaining clothes with his other hand. “You give new meaning to the phrase jewelry box.” 

She let go of her cheeks to clutch the bedspread. “I really need to come!” 

“I know,” he replied with a devilish grin. Gripping his cock in one hand, he tapped his throbbing knob against her rump, which was still lightly marked from whatever Snape had been doing to her. “Is this what you’re after?” 

“Yes, sir,” she groaned. “Please fuck me.” 

“Oh, I shall. But first we need to make some room.” 

Angling his hand toward the floor, he dragged the necklace out of her pussy and over her clit. The pearls, coated in her crystalline arousal, appeared two at a time, and her hips spastically shuddered as the line marched over her swollen nub. 

The last pearls fell free, and he tossed them on the bed next to her. “Can you smell yourself? Your pretty little cunt is already dripping . . . crying for my cock.” He pressed his tip to her entrance to staunch the vaginal tears.  

“Wait!” Hermione jerked away and looked over her shoulder. “I want to watch you.” 

His lips twitched, but he stifled his mirth. It wasn’t what he’d been planning, but he was pleased that she wanted to watch him at work—and he loved it when she got all vocal in the bedroom. “Would you like me to get the mirror, or do you want to try something new?” 

“Uh . . . new!” 

_There's my adventurous Gryffindor_. “Very well. Roll on your side.” He needed to maintain full access to her arse. “Pull your top leg to your chest.” 

She crawled into the middle of the bed and did as he asked, her eyes locked on his the whole time. Lucius kicked aside his loafers and trousers and climbed in with her. She smiled broadly when she saw him stroking his cock, and Lucius shook his head in amusement. The first penetration of the night always lit a fire under her. 

“Pull over one of those pillows. You need to be comfortable,” he murmured. 

Her smile wobbled to a funny grin, and she reached up for a pillow to prop under her head. 

Lucius waited for her to get settled then crawled forward and straddled her outstretched leg. She saw the gist of his design and pulled her top leg higher to expose her sex at a better angle. The view was superb—the glistening pink of her inner petals sparkling even brighter than the diamonds at her throat, and her cute little bum with its pearly ripcord was simply spectacular. Gods, he wanted her! Lucius gripped his shaft and ran his glans though her folds. It was like sluicing through boiling oil. “Ready?” 

She nodded and sank her teeth into her lower lip. He loved that sweet expression of abject anticipation. 

At the slowest pace he could manage, Lucius sheathed himself in her strangling heat, closing his eyes as her channel engulfed his length in silken flames. The pearls pressed against the side of his shaft through her back wall, turning her already snug accommodations into a torture chamber. The sweetest hell ever devised. 

His in and out was infinitesimal. He wanted her to feel every new sensation. The strange angle. The fullness. The friction. He could certainly feel it. Gods could he feel it! What had he gotten himself into? Leaning down, Lucius pressed his chest to her side. He needed to touch her as much as possible. 

Hermione met his gaze, and he saw a soft glint in her eye. He didn’t know what it meant, but she twisted a little and wrapped her arm around his neck. _Mmmmm_ _, nice_. 

Lucius leaned on his left forearm so his other hand would be free to play with her new tail. His fingers glided over the dips and dives of her backside, following the hills into her dark valley. 

He found the leftover loop of the necklace and gave it a little twitch. A grimace of ecstasy flitted over her features, and she shuddered out a breathy “Ooohhh.”  

Lucius smirked and did it again. “Did you like that?” 

“Yes, sir,” she whispered. 

He carefully worked some of the pearls back up her bum as he ground his cock even deeper into her depths. Once he had her stuffed full, he began to pull the beads back out. She gnawed her bottom lip and bit back a sigh, her eyelids fluttering as each pearl popped past her sphincter. 

Lucius put his lips to her cheek and kissed her flushed skin. “Are you enjoying your new jewels?” 

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” 

He grinned. “Have you ever had your arse filled like this?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Call me Lucius. I like the way you say it.” 

She smiled and met his eyes. “Lucius.” 

Growling in approval, he tugged the pearls a little harder. “You’re my dirty little princess, aren’t you?” 

Hermione nodded happily. “Very dirty.” 

“That’s the way I like you.” 

She brushed the hair from the side of his face and touched his cheek. “This is the way I like you.” 

“Pinning you to the bed and fucking your slurping pussy?” 

She shook her head. “Being yourself. No acting or sneering.” 

He blinked stupidly, completely caught off guard. Was she serious? 

“Naked Lucius is much more free.” 

What an odd thing to say. Was she suggesting that his sexual persona beat out his day-to-day persona in terms of likability? That was no secret. He wasn’t shooting for amiable in everyday life. She just had a way of bringing it out in him. 

“What’s that mean?” he asked, still grinding into her, his hips on autopilot. 

“I mean,” she said, kissing the corner of his mouth, “I like being with the Lucius who laughs and smiles and dances. The Lucius who loves kissing and touching. The Lucius who finds pleasure in generosity.” 

Generosity? He’d never been accused of such a sentiment. He found pleasure in providing for her and showing her how much he had to offer, but he didn’t know if that made him generous. Despite his misgivings about that assertion, he was touched by the other assessments. He’d forgotten what it was like to be appreciated for something other than money. Strangely, he kept getting the impression she liked him _despite_ his money. Did prestige really mean so little to her? 

Hermione ran her fingers down his face, along the sensitive underside of his chin. “Please kiss me, Lucius.” 

Yes! She was close. She liked to be kissed as she approached climax. It wasn’t the intimacy that pushed her over, she just had an innate need to suck on something, which seemed like a beneficial inclination for a witch who enjoyed having more than one cock at a time. Sometimes Lucius gave her his fingers, but having her suckling his tongue really got his balls humming. 

Pressing his lips to hers, he entered her mouth and swirled though the warmth. If Snape had been there, she would have had a nice salty knob to nurse. He wondered how Severus was satisfying her oral proclivities. Ball gag? Dick? Or was he kissing her too? Rather than making Lucius jealous, he was rather turned on by the mental image. 

A keening moan passed from her lips to his, and she latched onto his tongue.  

_That’s it, love, come for me._

Her breathing became ragged, her muscles going rigid as her body neared liftoff. Getting a good grip on the pearls again, Lucius readied himself for detonation. 

Her inner muscles clenched around his length, indicating she’d reached her peak, and Lucius leapt into action, smoothly withdrawing the necklace bead by bead to stimulate her anus at the pinnacle of pleasure. 

She shouted, the sound echoing in his head and ringing through his molars. He continued the measured extraction, dragging out her orgasm as long as he could. Her body quivered and twitched with each spasm, and Lucius found himself imprisoned in her cunt, her body clamping down on him with cock-snapping strength. 

He followed her lead, slowing as she did, reading her body and melding with its rhythms. He waited until she was almost still then gently drew the rest of the necklace free. She gasped for air, and Lucius pulled his lips away so she could breathe. 

“Hold on, love. Show me that pretty backside.” He  eased out and grabbed his sticky dick, wanking over her without missing a beat. There was no time to spare; he was about to lose it. 

Hermione twisted further to watch him, her eyes burning at the sight of his glistening cock poised above her arse. “Moan for me,” she whispered. 

He unlocked his jaw and breathed out a hungry groan. 

“Come all over me, Lucius. Please!” 

He knelt back on his heels and took aim at her round canvas. He’d mix his own talents with Snape’s. She’d have her pink bottom from one covered in cum from the other. 

His balls pulled high, and he growled as he spattered her in a salvo of explosive lust. He pumped every ounce of himself over her soft skin, glazing her in a sheen of veneration. A girl could never have enough pearls. 

When he was empty, he milked the remains onto her hip and stared at his newest masterpiece with a sated smirk. 

“Am I pretty now?” she asked playfully. 

“Stunning,” he assured her. “Would you like me to clean you off, or were you planning to be my one woman art show?” 

She ran her fingers over the biggest glob and dragged his seed across her buttocks, painting herself a portrait of perversity. “I’ll wear it home.” 

“You’re not really going home, are you?” He preferred it when she slept over. 

“You want me to stay?” 

“Of course I do,” he said, collapsing next to her. “Who doesn’t want to sleep with a princess?” 

She smiled and shook her head but then went back to her semen sketch. 

He watched her as she worked, his hand idly stroking her breast while he gathered his thoughts. He needed to find a way to see her more often. This schedule wasn’t cutting it for him. Granger was too tasty to be rationed out so sparingly. 

He needed more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ornaments--Tones used to embellish the principal melodic tone.  
> "Diamonds and Pearls" by Prince and The New Power Generation. Written by Prince. Released in 1991. "The ballad is an expression of love and not lust, as is the theme on some of the other singles from the album."--Wikipedia  
> <http://rebeccablake.com/prince-diamonds-and-pearls/>
> 
> The line "Too many accessories clutter an outfit" is my shameless nod to the movie Troop Beverly Hills, which every girl who grew up in the 80's saw at least once. Even my brainiest buddies were fans of TBH, so I feel it's safe to include Hermione in our ranks.


	30. Dynamics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, this took a lot more rewriting than I anticipated. But I think it’s finally done. (At least I hope so since I’m posting it.) The next chapter marks an important moment in the story, and it is, understandably, rather lengthy. I’m guessing it’ll take me at least twice as long as this chapter (as I have to completely rewrite it from scratch because it sucks balls).

30—Dynamics

“Naughty girls need love too.”—Samantha Fox

(Severus) 

After reading the same page for the third time, Severus admitted defeat and slapped his book shut with a growl of frustration. Too wound up to concentrate, he chose, instead, to sit in his armchair and glare at the fireplace.

There was a certain Gryffindor dancing about in his brain again, and due to her imminent arrival, there was little chance of him focusing on anything else.

He was annoyingly nervous about having her over. Entertaining guests was NOT his forte. It always felt invasive to him, as if he were asking people into his head to take a poke around his private thoughts and have a cup of tea.

But Granger was different.

In so many ways.  

For one thing, she wasn’t a snoop. And even if she did stumble over something questionable, she wouldn't judge. He liked that about her. He could be himself without fear of offending any delicate sensibilities—much the same way he was with Lucius. Except Hermione’s acceptance came from compassion and empathy, whereas Lucius’s was more of a habit.

But her unflinching humanity wasn't what was tripping him up. The thing he found most confounding about the girl was the fact that she seemed to truly enjoy his company. There was an unspoken connection between them, a sense of understanding, as if she received great pleasure from his strengths as much as his weaknesses. And the feeling was definitely mutual. That was what had his mind in such turmoil.

She was _too_ amazing for a man of his . . . temperament . . . past . . . financial means . . . appearance . . . everything.

Each week Severus expected to hear the flutter of owl wings beating against his window, the heavy _whump_ of feathers as a hurried note of cancellation was delivered on her behalf. But the owl of doom never came. She was always waiting for him at her door, eager to get him inside and accost him with a hug and whatever book she’d been obsessing over.

Severus smiled to himself, picturing her animatedly gesticulating with her hands as she went off on some literary tangent. He’d never met a witch who could get him hard with nothing more than a book review. How did she do that? Was it simply her fiery passion for knowledge that excited him, or was there something else, something more he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—define?    

The past two months had been like a dream. A strange dream—full of wondrous anxiety. Was this what being happy felt like, brilliant yet terrifying? How did people stand it? It made his stomach knot up like a barbed ball of yarn, yet he couldn’t stop counting the minutes until their next “date,” longing to see her with every fiber of his being.

Snape was perfectly aware of what that probably meant, but the precarious nature of their relationship kept him silent on the matter. He knew what he had to offer, and he knew what Lucius and Draco had to offer. And quite honestly, he couldn't fathom how she would ever choose between them. It was easy to see her with either Malfoy, and if that was the path she chose, it would be understandable. Of course he would miss their debates and the talks that wound long into the night, but that didn't mean he'd go so far as to manipulate her affections, as if she were some prize to be won at the county fair. If she decided he was the right man for the job, then so be it. While he seriously doubted he’d wind up being the solution to her little experiment, the fantasy was a potent one, bringing on visions of a future filled with something other than regret—a possibility he hadn't considered before she came along. But whether she chose him or not, he wanted to make sure she was basing her decision on the real Severus Snape, not on some idealized delusion of who she thought he was. Despite the _Prophet’s_ simpering articles to the contrary, he was no one’s hero, and he refused to fall into yet another role he hadn’t signed up for.

While some masochistic part of his brain kept picturing their life together, a large part of him was disturbed by the thought of actually being crowned the victor. He couldn’t imagine what that would do to Lucius and Draco. Lucius was actually starting to lighten up for the first time in decades, and Draco was so smitten with the girl, he’d probably drop dead of a broken heart if she didn’t choose him.

There was really no winning. No matter which way the winds blew, he was going to lose someone important to him, someone he’d allowed himself to care about. After all the destruction and devastation he’d worked so hard to put behind him, how could he ever come to terms with hurting his godson . . . his best friend . . . the witch who’d set his mind alight?

Bloody hell, was this the kind of emotional torture Hermione felt on a daily basis? Was she just constantly wading through what-ifs and eternal speculation? He knew she was; he could see the shadow of indecision clouding her thoughts whenever he slipped into her head.

He honestly wasn’t trying to spy on her, he just needed to know if she was leaning toward one man over another; he wanted some warning so he could cut the cord first and make it easier for her to leave. But he never saw any evidence that she was nearing a conclusion. If anything, she was getting sucked in even deeper, falling for Lucius’s charm as much as Draco’s affection. And her feelings toward himself were just as strong.

That level of impartiality was a gift. Not many people could keep three conflicting plates spinning in balance, objectively observing each one even as she steadied the others. The intellectual open-mindedness she possessed was staggering. If she ever decided to venture into the world of potion research, she’d make an outstanding partner. 

That sent his racing thoughts skidding off in another direction. The urge to confess to her about his work with the Tentacula venom had been pecking away at his brain for the past few weeks. She was a trustworthy witch, and he found her theoretical musings invaluable. Perhaps she could provide some insight he’d yet to consider. Even if she didn’t, he’d appreciate having someone to talk to about his research.

A soft knocking sounded at the door, and he wiped his hand down his face to silence his chattering brain. _Finally._

Severus strode over and opened the door to find her beaming smile on the other side, veiled by a brunette wall of curls that whipped about in the wind, blinding her with its cyclone of blustering curlicues. His heart stopped for a split second and then resumed at a riotous clip. The recent rain had chilled the air, and she wore a maroon, long-sleeve tee, which she huddled into to keep out the damp breeze. At that moment beauty had no other name than Hermione Granger.

“Come in,” he said softly, stepping back and gesturing for her to enter.

She slid through the door, and he closed it against the inclement weather, sealing them in blessed solitude.

Puffing the windblown strands from her lips and smoothing her hair back into some semblance of its usual madness, Hermione straightened herself out and took stock of her surroundings. The moment she realized she was surrounded by nothing but books, she froze, her eyes going wide as they darted from shelf to shelf. An expression of rapacious hunger washed over her face, and Severus found himself excited by her awe.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked politely. That's what you did when someone came calling, wasn’t it?

“Um . . . tea? I . . .” She robotically walked over to one wall and began to finger the line of spines.

“Yes, tea. Or I have wine.”

She didn’t answer. Her head tipped to one side, and she drifted toward the corner, trailing her fingertips over the titles as she passed. He should have known she’d be enraptured by the décor.

Slipping up behind her like a shadow, he followed her hand with his own for a few seconds before catching her by the wrist. That got her attention.

“It _is_ polite to greet the host before the stroking begins.”

She smiled and, with absolutely no warning, wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his pine-green dress shirt

He was becoming accustomed to her abrupt greetings. At first he hadn’t known how to react. No one had ever hugged him like that before. But once the shock wore off, he found her embrace rather pleasant. It seemed to be an immediate declaration of her feelings. She was inviting him in, telling him there would be no hiding—for her or for him. While it left him with a peculiar sense of exposure, he didn’t discourage her manhandling. Although he never really hugged her in return, he did slide his hands over her back and up under her hair to caress her neck. She always liked that.

Looking up, she grinned broadly so her eyes crinkled at the corners. “This place is great. You didn’t tell me you lived in a library.”

“It’s a quiet existence,” he quipped. “The only thing I have to guard against is bibliophilic little bookworms who like to hump the new arrivals.”

“If you’re referring to me, I only hump the leather-bound volumes. Much softer. Less wear and tear on my clit.”

 _Cheeky little nympho_. “I’d imagine so. Now that I have your attention, would you care for some tea?”

Her grin widened, and she nudged him with her pelvis. “I guess that depends on what you plan to do to me.”

Good lord, she was ready to jump him right then and there! Severus needed to get his bearings first. He still couldn’t believe she was in his house. “Why don’t we sit down and talk for a moment,” he said, nodding toward the chair. 

She waited for him to get comfortable and then settled into his lap the way she usually did. These “lap chats” were becoming a regular occurrence, and he’d come to crave them as much as the sex. Over the months he had become attuned to her many moods and knew by the way she sighed and leaned into him that something was on her mind. Winding his arm around her waist, he drew her to him. “How has your week been?”

She huffed through her nose. “Things are getting tense at work. Without Draco to spy on everyone, I don’t know how or when to approach the heads for more funding. We’re back to working on a shoestring budget. All the jealous secretaries Draco used to flirt with are making it clear they don’t appreciate my presence by misfiling my reports and sending me inter-office memos late so I look incompetent. Some crazy witch sent me an anonymous note, informing me I was too unattractive for a man like Draco.”

 _Bitches_. “Did you tell Draco?”

“He knows.”

“What did he do about it?”

“What’s he supposed to do, wag his finger at them and tell them to play nicely?”

“I suppose not. How are things with Draco and Lucius? Are _they_ playing nicely?”

A wan smile graced her lips before she glanced away.

“What was that? Why do you look so worried?”

She made a growly noise of indecision and looked around the room, idly toying with a lock of his limp hair as she avoided his eye. Swatting away her hand, Snape turned her face back to his.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” he prodded.

“I don’t know. I think I need to see you all together again so we can talk . . . and . . . other stuff.”

“I see. What do we need to _talk_ about?”

“I . . . I thought by now I would've come to some conclusion about the three of you, but . . . I’m just getting more confused. What would you do if you were me?”

Severus remained silent. _I’d tell the Potions master that I wanted to stay at his house and read his books and ride his cock and make potions with him in his cellar_. He would never say that out loud no matter how much he wished it were true. This was her decision. “I’d be honest—with myself and everyone else.”

Hermione nodded and rested her head on his shoulder. “Are you going to see Lucius tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell him I want to meet?”

“Of course. When would you like to come over?”

“I hadn’t thought about it.”

“Are you seeing Draco tomorrow?”  

“Yes.”

“Then come over after you two have dinner.”

“Are you sure Lucius will be okay with that?”

Of course Lucius would be okay with it. Was she so blind that she didn’t see what she did to him? “It’ll be fine.”

She didn’t say anything for a minute, and Severus stayed still, wondering what she was thinking. When she began to kiss a soft path from his jaw to his mouth, his warning bells went off, and he drew back. “What are you doing?”

Her sigh was sad, as if depressed by his question. “I just missed you.”

Severus knew she was disappointed by his avoidance of all things snogging, but he didn’t know if he should invite such intimacy into their arrangement when she hadn’t made a choice yet. Maybe if their group date went well, he would reconsider it. Things had lasted longer than he’d expected, but he needed to make sure the rug wasn’t going to be pulled out from under him as soon as he dropped his defenses.

But he had to give her _something_ , or she’d think he didn’t want that side of her at all. Shit. “I know. I . . . missed you as well.”

Her smile was small but full of hope. “Really?”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

Hermione broke into a huge grin and kissed his cheek. “I won’t.”

His skin felt tingly warm where she’d pecked him, and he had to fight the urge to touch his face like a lovesick schoolboy. Time for a distraction. “I got the new issue of _Potion-Maker’s Monthly_ yesterday. Have you read it yet?”

“No. Is it good?”

“It was interesting. There’s an article I want you to read.” It was his.

Looking playful, Hermione touched the center of his lower lip, as if kissing him with her fingertip. “Why don’t you read it to me?”

Severus arched a brow. “Read it to you?”

“Yes, sir.” She leaned in and nuzzled his ear. “Pleeeease?”

He knew exactly why she wanted him to read it to her, but it was too much fun to pretend otherwise. “Why on earth would I read it to you when you are perfectly capable?”

“Because I like to hear you. Your voice is foreplay.”

He allowed himself a quick smile before straightening his face and affecting his most seductive purr. “I see.” Since she was so keen, it seemed like an excellent opportunity to “expand her horizons.” “You know only little girls need to have things read to them.”

She hid her face in the crook his neck, but he could feel her smiling against his skin.

“Are you ready to be my naughty little girl?”

Nodding quickly, she wriggled closer, pressing her chest to his.

“Did you wear the knickers I asked you to wear?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered to his shoulder.

"Then let's go upstairs. I’ll get you ready.”

“Ready? For reading?”

The corner of his mouth curled with the hint of a leer. “You can’t be my little girl dressed like that.”

She seemed baffled by his reply, looking down at her clothes with critical curiosity. “Oh?”

“Come along.” He patted her bum to get her moving.

Flicking his wand at the wall, Severus revealed the hidden staircase. Standing without crippling his manhood took a bit of talent, but he managed a sly adjustment as he turned to lead the way. She followed him up the stairs, her hand slipping into his when they reached the landing, and Severus led her to his room, feeling as if he’d just ascended the earthly plane.

As soon as she saw the annexed library lining his walls, her eyes went dark with lust, no doubt excited by the prospect of being surrounded by books while he banged her on his old brass bed. He was rather looking forward to that himself.

He urged her to hop up, and she sat on the edge of the mattress, bouncing up and down a bit so the springs squeaked—which deepened the blush creeping along her cheeks. Snickering to himself, Severus began the preparations by removing her shoes. The socks would remain in place. Warmth wouldn’t be an issue, but he wanted to leave her feeling slightly off kilter. She was used to him stripping her bare and pushing her to her limits. But he had a much more diabolical plan in store for that evening. This wasn’t about sex—well . . . not _just_ about sex—this was all about her, about what she wanted, about fulfilling her hidden longings. 

“Lie back.”

She knew him well enough to suspect something was up. Her eyes narrowed as she lowered herself to the bedspread. Severus gave no indication of any ulterior motive as he unfastened her jeans. She lifted her hips to help him peel them off, and he wiggled them down, leaving her lounging in what were most assuredly an unexpected choice when it came to knickers. They were simple, white bikinis covered in red and pink hearts. He’d specifically asked her to wear her cutest underwear. Not sexy. Cute. Cotton was preferable. She’d followed his instructions to the letter.

“Sit up so I can get your shirt.”

Instead of completely undressing her, Severus only freed her arms. She gave him a funny look, but he ignored it and removed her bra. After casting the frothy pink scrap of lace aside, he returned her shirt to its original place, threading her arms through the sleeves and tugging the hem back down to her hips.

“Little girls don’t wear bras,” he informed her. 

Relishing the sudden liberation, her nipples sprang up against the thin fabric. They demanded his attention, and he was all too happy to oblige, eyeing them with blatant amusement.

Snape grazed the outline of one stiff bud and reveled in her intoxicated reaction. “Did you bring the elastics as I requested?”

She looked baffled by his question, her expression wavering between dazed and bewildered. “They’re in the pocket of my jeans.”

He retrieved the hair ties from her rumpled trousers and with a dip of his chin, motioned for her to face the opposite wall. “All right, stay sitting and turn your back to me.”

There was a long pause as she studied him for clues, but when she got no explanation, she gave in and did as he asked.

Severus carded his fingers through the roots of her hair and massaged the tension from her scalp, bidding her to relax with a firm thumb to the curve of her cranium. She breathed out a soft sigh and went limp. Much better. When he cupped her crown, she leaned into his hand, pushing up into his palms like a cat. She’d done the same thing the week before when he’d brushed her hair. Interesting. Snape filed away her response for future reference. 

After parting her hair down the middle, Severus gathered it into two low bunches and secured each side—just as he’d seen it in her fantasies. “There now, you're all set. Are you ready for your story?”

Hermione raised her hand and felt her head to see what he’d been up to. “Uuuuh . . . yes, sir?”

At her word, Severus kicked off his shoes and went around to the far side of the bed, where he took up his usual reading position. Leaning back against the pillows, he plucked the magazine from his bedside table and opened it to the earmarked article. Immediately, he began to read, and she stared at him blankly for a few seconds, obviously expecting something more perverse than pigtails and half-naked story time. When she realized he was really going to read the whole article to her, she crawled over and curled up next to him.

Severus spent the next fifteen minutes smoothly gliding over each word, alternating between rumbled hums and staccato skips, popping each sound past his lips and tongue like an oral acrobat. He knew exactly what she wanted to hear. Every word was auditory sex that slithered between her legs to tickle her clit with consonants and vibrate her vulva with vowels. _Potion-Maker’s Monthly_ had never been read so lasciviously. 

As he progressed, she wiggled closer and rested her head on his chest. His heart did that odd fluttering again, indicative of myocardial infarction. When it calmed, Severus draped his arm around her and petted some more sighs from her pliant body. Those small sounds of contentment shot straight to his cock, and he shifted his hips to ease some of the ache coiling in his groin. While this particular scenario may have originated in her mind, he wanted it just as much—if not more so. It was time to take “kinky” in a new direction, one he never dared attempt with another witch. His preliminary investigations had been going well, and he was fairly confident now was the right time to initiate Operation Bedtime Story.  Over the past couple of months, he’d been sneaking in more and more “care” to see how she reacted, and his test runs had been met with nothing but enthusiastic approval. Usually multiple squirting approvals.

When he reached the end of the article, he set the magazine aside and pulled her closer. “So what did you think?”

“I think from now on whenever I hear the word Tentacula, I’m going to soak my knickers.”

“Good to know,” he chuckled. “How about the article?”

“Was that by the same person as last time? It seemed to be a continuation—but better.”

“Yes, it was.”

“It was bloody brilliant,” she said, running her fingers over the buttons on his shirt as she traced the ropy musculature of his chest. “I wish I could see those experiments in action. If the targeting didn’t work, maybe some kind of buffer would.”

"What kind of buffer?” He’d been trying, but success remained elusive.

“Well I don’t know off the top of my head. I’d have to see the effects under a microscope. How much time is there before the damage is too great for recovery?”

 _Not much_. “I could show you the experiments later if you like.”

She lifted her head and peered up at him. “What? Where?”

Severus ran a single finger down her velvet cheek and looked into her eyes, taking note of the intellectual fire searing the brown to burnt umber. “In my lab in the cellar. Those articles are mine.”

The fire flared to incinerating surprise. “What!”

“It’s my work. If you’d like to see for yourself, I’ll take you down and show you everything once we’ve finished here.”

“This is incredible, Severus! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me before. Let’s go right now!” she said, clambering to her knees.

“I don’t think so,” he corrected her in a warning tone. “We have many things to do right here first. Perhaps we can go down tomorrow morning.”

Her mouth opened wide then snapped shut, her words stalling before a sound could be made. She chewed the inside of her cheek for a few seconds then touched his hand. “You want me to stay with you all night?”

“Don’t we always spend the night together when we meet?”

“Yes, but this is your house. Your bed.” 

 “True,” he confirmed sarcastically. “And I want you sleeping in _my_ bed. Besides, I very much doubt you’ll be able to return home after I’m through with you.”

A battle between exhilaration and caution raged across her features. “What’re you going to do to me?”

He kept his own expression controlled, revealing nothing. “Exactly what you want.”

“What I want?”

He nodded. “Lift your shirt for me. Those little nipples just won’t calm down, will they?”

She blushed as if abashed, but nevertheless, smiled and raised the front of her shirt for a thorough flashing.

“Very nice,” he commented, lightly brushing one crinkled tip.

Sucking in a tight gasp, she arched into his touch.

Snape dropped his hand to her lap and skimmed his fingers up her thigh. “Are these knickers wet for me yet?”

Her hips ticked and jumped, as if seeking out his clitoral assistance. “I don’t know, sir.”

“Let’s check, shall we?” Sliding his hand between her thighs, he ran an inquisitive finger along her cotton gusset, following the hidden track of her slit. “Dry as a bone. Good girls have wet knickers. What do you think we should do about this?”

“Uh . . .  I guess . . . get them wet?”

“And what gets you wettest?”

She gnawed on her lip for a moment before answering. “Spanking.”

“Well, there’s a conundrum. I can’t take off your knickers until they’re wet, and you know very well that I only give bare bottom spankings.”

“Can’t you just pull them up real high like you’ve done before? I’ll still be wearing them, but my cheeks will be bare.”

“That would be cheating,” he said with a false innocence that spoke of nothing but lechery. “And you know very well that’s a reward for being my good girl. I think, until you’re wet, you need a punishment.”

“I don’t know how else to get my panties wet, sir.”

He couldn’t help smirking. “You don’t? How did you get wet before you started seeing me?”

Her lips twitched in a sheepish smile, and she glanced away as if she couldn’t look at him when she said, “The usual ways.”

“Which were?”

“Touching myself, sir.”

Severus grazed her other nipple, and it perked to a jaunty point. “That also sounds like a reward. Perhaps if you were to stimulate yourself in a way that you found embarrassing, that would be an acceptable compromise.”

“What do you want me to do?” She was wary, knowing his deal sounded too good to be true. Smart girl.

Severus tweaked her nipple between his thumb and two middle fingers just to watch her squirm. “I want you to befriend a new implement.”

“Huh?”

"I made you something, something I intend to use on your bare bottom later. I think you should get to know it before it makes its first impression.”

Although her eyes went round with apprehension, he could see her pupils expanding with desire.

“What is it?” she asked quietly.

“Why don’t I just show you.”

Snape rolled out of bed and went to the wardrobe, where he pulled his present from its hiding place. When he spun around, presenting it with a quick flip in his fingers, the wooden paddle was met with a stare of bleak stupefaction.

Severus rotated it to display the reverse, where he’d etched a rampant lion into the wood. Beneath its back paws were the words “Where dwell the brave at heart.” Gryffindors were so easy to goad. She’d find some perverse accomplishment in meeting that silent dare.

“You made that?” she asked, her voice hollow.

He nodded and got back in the bed with her. Stretching out on his side, he set the paddle between them. “Just for you.”

She appeared torn by both terror and sentimentality. “How did you make it?”

“The way one makes any paddle. I bought the wood and then I cut it to shape and did the carving on the back. Then I sanded it down and lacquered it.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He liked a witch who could appreciate fine craftsmanship when she saw it.

“And horrifying,” she added. “Thank you though. I really mean it. I love it even though it scares the piss out of me.”

Snape chuckled under his breath. “I guess we’ll get those knickers wet one way or another. Lift up for me.”

After only a moment’s pause, Hermione rose up on her knees, and he turned the paddle on its side, sliding it against her slit so the beveled edge split her lips. Her respiration accelerated to a frantic pant, and she watched his positioning with rapt attention.

“Now,” he said darkly, “give your new friend a good buffing, and I think you’ll be wet in no time.”

Her face turned the most lovely shade of maroon to match her shirt. What an intriguing witch. How many times had she humped his hand or his leg with no hesitation? Yet asking her to ride an inanimate object had her blushing like a virgin. Legilimency would be unnecessary in this instance; any imbecile could read that expression. She was aroused and humiliated—and humiliated by her arousal.

Severus nodded at her chest. “Keep that shirt up. I like the way your tits bounce when you get going.”

If her face burned any brighter it was going to incinerate her eyebrows.

As she cautiously worked out the mechanics of paddle frottage, Severus encouraged her with some choice phrases. “Spread your legs wide. Ride it hard—I want to be able to see every inch of your sweet little cunt through those panties when you’re finished.”

Her eyelids drooped, her mouth falling open in a wanton gasp of submission.

 _Oh, yes, love. I know. You’re already drenched, aren’t you?_ Severus pinched her left nipple and held on as she undulated like a snake on a wave. “That’s it. Fuck that wood like it’s my cock. Show me what a dirty little girl you are.”

She circled her hips, grinding against the grain until she was rolling in a haze of sexual oblivion, her eyes fluttering back so hard he lost sight of the brown.

Snape watched her for several minutes, occasionally prodding a pink nipple to help her along. She was almost there, her serpentine dance gradually becoming quick and sharp. He should stop her before she came. A paddling would hurt too much if she wasn’t high on her own desperation.

“Are your knickers wet now?” he murmured.

She blinked open her eyes as if she'd forgotten where she was. “I think so, sir.”

"If they're not, you're going to get a dozen hits. Should I check now or wait?”

“Uh . . . give me a second.” Furrowing her brow in concentration, she began to furiously polish the wood with her clit, the edge of the paddle splitting her cleft until it looked as if it was slicing her in two.

“That’s enough,” he growled. She was clearly striding for the finish line to ensure her success, and that was absolutely out of the question. “Lift up.”

Thighs quivering, she rose once more, and he drew the board from between her legs. Running his palm along the periphery, he checked for dampness. It _did_ seem a bit moist. He glanced at her crotch and saw the cotton plastered to her folds, still dented into her crevice. Smirking, Severus caressed the gouge with the tip of his index finger.

“You’re quite the overachiever, aren’t you?” he observed dryly. “These are more than satisfactory. I think you’d better bend over and get that backside in the air. I’ll take off your wet knickers, and we’ll see if a paddling leaves you as slippery as a spanking.”

She quickly spun around on her knees and pressed her chest to the bed, waggling her hips in a nervous shimmy. She looked outstanding waving her rump around like that, and he had half a mind to tease her to climax. He wouldn’t even have to remove her panties; she'd squirt herself silly and leave a wet spot on the quilt to commemorate their first night together in his bed.

But that would ruin all his plans. He’d been working on her present for weeks and imaging exactly how the evening would play out. Best to save the panty drenching for another night.

Severus brought his damp fingers to his nose and too a deep breath. Fucking hell! How did she smell so bloody sweet? He’d have to tie her legs open later and get a mouthful of that juicy peach while it was ripe. 

“Are you excited about the paddle?” he asked with knowing lilt.

Her reply was muffled by the bed. “I’m scared, sir.”

“I’m only going to give you six.”

“That sounds like a lot.”

“Don’t I always make you love it?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Snape hooked his thumbs into the sides of her knickers and teased them down her hips. “Pain is a tricky animal in sexual situations.”

“Tell me about it,” she muttered.

Snickering to himself, Severus arranged her underwear just below her bum, essentially underlining his target. “Do you have something you need to say to me, young lady?”

They did this every time. She knew what he wanted to hear. 

Hermione squirmed, pussy shine peeking from between her lips with every wiggle. “I need a spanking, sir.”

"Because?"

“I want to be your good girl.”

“Your poor little pussy is sodden. Is there something else you need?”

“Yes, sir. Please make me come.” She arched her back to show him how dire the situation was.

Severus feathered his fingers over the contours of her backside in acknowledgment of her lubricious plight. “I’ll give you your six with the paddle, and if you take them well, I’ll finger your naughty little bottom until you come. Would you like that?”

“Yes, sir!” Her smile shone through her words.

“All right. I want you on your back. Leave those knickers right where they are. I’ll take them off for you.”

Awkwardly, Hermione rolled over, looking extremely perplexed about how the paddle would be applied in that position. Had he never spanked her like this before? No, he hadn’t. He’d taken a liking to putting her over his knee, her body warm against his. But he’d have to rethink that in the future; being able to watch her face was quite a turn-on. 

Snape pushed her shirt back above her breasts and knelt at her side. “Legs to your chest.”

Hermione lifted her feet, drawing her thighs to her belly . . . and displaying her glistening cunny at the most advantageous angle.

Taking his sweet time, Severus rolled her twisted knickers over her thighs, leaving her exposed slit bare and vulnerable. He tugged off her underwear and brought them to his nose. His head spun, suddenly floating through a musky haze of meaty nectar. _Am I seriously getting high off her pussy?_ He sniffed again and drifted into wonderland. He’d have to ask Lucius if he'd discovered the opium den between her legs yet.

"You certainly smell like a good girl,” he murmured. 

She smiled and averted her gaze to disguise her mild embarrassment. 

He couldn’t have that. “Look at me.” When she met his eyes again, he flashed her a reassuring half-smile then leaned over to arrange her knickers across her face so she looked like a masked bandit—a dastardly villain with a flair for pink hearts. “Leave those there. I want you to remember how much you want this.”

Her chest rapidly rose and fell as her panting became obscene.

Severus picked up the paddle in one hand and pushed back her legs with the other. “Hold on to those. I don’t want you reaching back. I know that’s always the rule, but it’s imperative when I’m using the paddle; one of your fingers could get seriously injured. Good girls hold their legs for their punishments, and they thank the spanker for the discipline. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered into her knickers.

“Very good.”

Snape swiped the smooth surface lightly over her lower buttocks. He didn’t want to bruise her. He just wanted to give her a taste for the paddle’s natural power. “Ready?”

She nodded and breathed out a shaky, “Yes, sir,” before scrunching up her face in anticipation of the first hit.

Severus lined up the center of the wood against her cheeks, rubbing back and forth to sensitize her skin. Right over her sweet spot. He gave her a few warning pats, and she cringed, the same way she had the first time he’d used the riding crop . . . and the tawse . . . and the cane. She didn’t honestly think he was going to beat her black and blue, did she? Hadn't he proven his restraint with her time and time again? _Where’s my brave girl tonight?_

Drawing back his arm, he swiftly brought it back in with a firm _whap!_

Her eyes popped wide. “Thank you, sir!”

Severus let her adapt to the thumpy heat, giving her time to experience the hit’s full radiance. After several tremulous breaths, her rigid grip relaxed, and the tension in her body dissipated. Apparently the deeper impact was a sensation she found somewhat alluring . . . at least that was what he assumed when she pulled back her legs even further, as if inviting him to take another swing. Severus rewarded her exemplary fortitude with a soft pet for her pink sit spots.

“You’re ready for the next lick, aren’t you?”

Her nod was vigorous that time, causing her damp knickers to fall to her heaving chest.

Severus smirked and readjusted her face mask so the wet spot hooded her nose. He wanted every one of her senses awash in the moment: the sound of the mahogany meeting her tender cheeks, the heady rush of overwhelming sensation, the sight of him above her, watching over her, and topping it all off, the scent of her own passion painting the air with proof of her desire. And if she licked her lips, surely her tongue would catch a hint of that cream liberally smeared across the crotch.

The next hit should come unannounced. She needed to let go of her fears and remember why she kept coming back to him: for that moment of total release. _Whap!_

“Mmmmm! Thank you, sir.”

“You’re being very good so far, Miss Granger. You know how much that pleases me.”

She stared into his eyes as if searching for some secret meaning behind his words. There was no mystery. He wanted her to find strength in his praise. And she did. Every time.

With a quick visual assessment to ensure her backside was the proper shade of pink, Snape laid on another lick to deepen the rose to magenta. _Whap!_

“Mm!” she growled. His aggressive little lion. “Thank you, sir.”

“Halfway there,” he said as he scooped up a trickle of her pussy juice with the tip of his pinky. He couldn’t let that go to waste. Licking his finger clean, he coated his palate in her ambrosia.

Dammit! Why had he done that? He was drunk on her in an instant, his head reeling. _More!_

“My bum is throbbing, sir.”

Snape forced himself back into the present, leaving the visceral images of him drinking from her chalice as inspiration for later. “I bet it is. Is your pussy throbbing as well?”

“I’m too scared to think about it.”

Severus smiled and put his left hand over hers on her legs—for her forbearance as much as his own. “She’ll see the light soon.”

He popped her with another fast hit before she could start to worry. _Whap!_

“Fuck! Thank you, sir.”

“Language, Miss Granger. You’re only allowed to say fuck when I’m actually fucking you.” He leaned over and snatched the knickers off her face. “Open wide.” She did, and Severus stuffed her mouth with pink and red pussy-scented hearts. “Just a precaution,” he said with a secretive smile. “I don’t want you earning any extra strokes.”

The threat sparked a flicker of panic in her eyes, and she nodded vehemently, knicker elastic flying up to tap her nose.

“Two more,” he said and, after taking a mental picture of her for future wanking, brought the paddle down on her reddened cheeks. _Whap!_

“Mmmmm!” She inhaled roughly though her nose and released it in a ragged whoosh.  

“I still expect a thank you.”

“HaaayOooUhh,” she mumbled around the cotton.

Biting his tongue to keep from laughing, Severus nodded. “Good girl. Last one. You know what that means.”

She whimpered as if begging him not to make it any harder. He always told her the last stroke would be the hardest, but if he thought she was too close to her limits, “harder” was more attitude than strength. But this wasn’t one of those times. She need some extra sting to send her into orbit. Tapping, the wood against her bum, Snape built her up to the finale. _Pat_ _pat_ _pat_ _Pat_ _PAT_ _PAT_ _. Whap!_

“Uhhhhh! HaaayOooUh!”

Severus reached over and pulled the gag from her mouth. “Why are you thanking me.”

“Thank you for teaching me a lesson, sir.”

"Which was?”

“I have an auxiliary heartbeat in my arse.”

Snickering, he gently touched her parted labia, tracing the slick pink of inner flesh. “Did that lion paddle some bravery into you?”

“I think he bit me.”

Snape snorted and sank his middle finger into the snug heat of her sex. “I like how wet he made you. Hear that? It sounds like you’re an extra good girl now.”

She returned his smile and parted her legs slightly. “Where's my chocolate biscuit?”

His brow knitted in confusion. “What?”

Hermione giggled and spread her legs wider. “You’re really going to finger my bum, right?”

“I promised I would. What’s that got to do with biscuits?” He added another finger and twisted them around to hear her gasp.

“Nothing,” she whispered with a convulsive shudder. “Your fingers are better than any biscuit.”

 “I should hope so.” Feeling along her front wall, he found her g-spot and dug in; it might be the one spot on her body that preferred no warmup. “If you’re going to list everything my fingers are better than, we could be here for quite some time.”

“In your bed,” she said, as if delighted by the very idea.

“If I had known the thought would turn you on so much, I would have brought you here sooner.”

She reached down and touched his wrist. “It’s not the bed, it’s the wizard in it.”

He’d forgotten what it was like to be struck dumb by sentimentality. Was she always so . . . gooey? Was this what had Draco humming in the halls and smiling at everyone like an over-medicated mental patient? Snape could understand that. Who wouldn’t want some sexy witch telling you how much she wanted you? Not just your cock. You.

Him.

Severus eased his fingers from her slit and slid them down to her pucker, where he traced her twitching sphincter and greased her arse in her own silky lubrication. With a needy whimper, she pulled her legs as wide as she could and opened herself to him completely.

Impaling her bum with his index and middle finger, Severus wallowed in her blistering heat and watched in fascination as her tiny opening stretched around his fingers. Lack of lube wouldn’t be an issue. He intended to go deep and stay there for a while; it wasn’t the thrusting that got her going so much as the pressure and rhythm, and he knew how to play that hot tip for the biggest payoff. Resting his other hand on her kitten-soft mound, he gently strummed her clit with the side of his thumb, deftly finding the driving bass line that would send her into screaming paroxysms like a rabid teenager at a Weird Sisters concert.

Hermione writhed, her hips searching for the summit. Her eyes went dark and glassy, and her mouth fell open in a soft O of mindless ecstasy—one of his favorite sex faces. When his fingers were buried in her bum, he curled them to stimulate the back of her cervix through the thin wall of her rectum, which set her lower lip to trembling.

“Uh!”

“Beg me to make you come,” he growled.

“Mmmm! Please make me come, sir. I’m so close!”

“The paddle turned you on, didn’t it?”

“Yes, sir!” Her eyes squeezed tight, and she hissed through her teeth as her muscles all flexed in a rictus of warning.

His thumb slithered down to her pussy, covering all landmarks in its wake—clit, urethra, vaginal opening, inner labia. Everything was swollen and pink and ready to blow. Now if only he had an extra hand; he usually had at least two fingers in her mouth when she came . . . occasionally three or four if he wanted to get her salivating  like a mad dog.

“You may come now,” he murmured. “Show me how much you love the way I touch you. No one else makes you feel this way—do they?” He already knew the answer, but she seemed to get off on the declaration.

Too far gone to answer, Hermione grasped his forearm and pierced him with her sex claws. How did a girl with such short nails leave him scored by scratch marks every single week?

Her back suddenly crunched into a taut arch, and she cried out as her anus spasmed around his digits.  

_There’s my girl._

Each throbbing contraction spilled a burst of liquid gratitude all over his sheets, and her head rolled madly against the bed as if denying how hard she was coming. 

“Severussssss.”

Gods, This was bloody spectacular. What would he give for the chance to witness this bliss every day for the rest of his life? He needed to find a way to see her more often. Maybe he should mention something to Lucius. If Draco got to see her every day at work, Severus should get to see her at least three times a week, and he was certain Lucius would demand equal visitation rights.

Hermione’s thumb mirrored his, ticking back and forth over his arm as she spastically floated down from her high. His skin buzzed with each sweet sweep, and he clutched at the momentary warmth coursing through his soul.

_Okay, maybe four times a week._

_Five would be better._

“Thank you, sir,” she croaked, a sated grin spreading over her glowing face. “That’s not the end of my punishment, is it? I’ve been very bad this week.”

“My sweet little Head Girl?” he teased. “What could you have possibly gotten up to since the last time we saw each other?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, but I definitely need more fingers up my bum to make amends.”

Snorting softly, Severus nodded as if he were considering her suggestion, but his brain was busy formulating a dangerous proposal. _Seven days of Hermione a week sounds much more tolerable._

Sweet Salazar, what had he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dynamics--Pertaining to the loudness or softness of a musical composition.
> 
> "Naughty Girls (Need Love Too)" by Samantha Fox. Recorded in 1986 and released in 1988. Written by Curt Bedeau, Gerry Charles, Hugh L. Clarke, Brian George, Lucien George, and Paul George (all members of Full Force, who appear in the video).  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=pXEN57rFnIM>


	31. Concerto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finally! Crap, this one was long. Despite cutting two mini-scenes from this chapter it still wound up being 1000 words longer than the original.  
> The next chapter is way shorter, and hopefully I'll have it done quickly, because this story is going to start moving a bit faster from this point on. I'll have to release some of the coming chapters one right after another to keep from breaking up some scenes, so that means I'll often have to rework multiple chapters before I can post. But the next chapter stands alone, so no waiting there.  
> Hope you all enjoy this, and I appreciate everyone who's stuck with me up till now. Thank you so much for all the patience and love.

31—Concerto

“Oh, I need it. Oh, feel it, feel it, my love. See what you’re doing to me.”—Kate Bush

(Hermione)

As the Malfoy’s winding driveway passed beneath their feet, Draco gave her clammy fingers a reassuring squeeze. When Hermione glanced at him, he flashed her his I’m-a-bad-boy-with-a-heart-of-gold smile, the one that usually drenched her knickers in two seconds flat. Unfortunately, she was too nervous for random bouts of pussy leakage. His gallant efforts elicited nothing but a weak grimace.

Snickering, Draco lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her knuckles. “Is it really that bad?”

“Is what that bad?”

“Whatever it is you plan to tell us tonight.”

Hermione winced, her incessant doubts stabbing her fragile confidence in the back. “I don’t _think_ it’s bad. I’m just not sure how everyone will react.”

“Are you going to leave one of us?” he asked quietly, his eyes fixed straight ahead on the house.

“No!” she sputtered in disbelief. “Of course not!”

Draco’s shoulders dropped, and the apprehension drained from his face. “Then I think we can all handle it.”

Hermione clutched his hand. How could he think she might leave one of them? And judging by his reaction, he’d been afraid it would be his head on the chopping block. Was he seriously questioning her attraction to him after what they’d just done at the restaurant? It wasn’t every day that she ordered a cum aperitif in the loo before the dessert arrived.

Although, truth be told, she _was_ becoming rather proficient at on-the-go blowjobs in unusual locations. And imperceptible hand-jobs. And silent orgasms. Thank Merlin Lucius always sprang for private box seats, or they would have been kicked out of every symphony in France. 

Hermione smiled to herself, semi-embarrassed by her new skill set. But shining through that dwindling layer of propriety was a core of fierce pride. Who would have ever suspected that swotty Hermione Granger, the girl who had more books than friends, would turn out to be the three-time snake wrangling champion of the British empire?  Her pulse raced at the memory of the naked lust in their eyes, the desire, the need. They never derided or dismissed her insatiable appetite; they just fed her a constant diet of approval, stoking her furnace until the passion within her roared.

And then they added more fuel to the fire.

That realization gave her a small boost of courage. She didn’t really know how she was going to say what she needed to say once they got in the house, but she hoped beyond hope that they would hear her out and help her come up with a viable solution.

She couldn’t go on the way things were. There was too much pressure to choose, too much anxiety, too much turmoil. It wasn’t fair to any of them.

Draco escorted her through the front door, and their footsteps echoed across the marble floor of the vast foyer. Hermione’s palms began to sweat, but Draco didn’t seem to mind; he just gripped her hand harder so she didn’t slip away.

As they approached the library, Hermione’s stomach tangled into a ball of agitated serpents. Pressing her fist to her abdomen, she fought the unsettled lurch of her dinner. What if Lucius or Severus decided she was being too selfish or demanding? What if they were getting tired of sharing her? What if they didn’t want to hear what she had to say?

Draco pushed open the door to the library, and Hermione blew all the anxiety from her lungs with a gale force exhalation. _Please don’t puke._

But it appeared her fears were groundless. The library was completely empty. 

Draco threw her a baffled look. “They said eight, right?”

Hermione nodded.

“Maybe they’re upstairs. Perhaps we’ve caught them mid-shag.”

Hermione perked up, her fear tempered by the one thing that could override her logic. “Really? We’d better hurry then.” She dragged him back out the door and through the halls, lengthening her stride to reach the stairs first.

Draco snorted and hurried after her. They padded up the curving staircase at a rambunctious pace, but Hermione stayed on her toes, making hardly a sound in her heels.

She’d passed many an hour imagining those two going at it in Lucius’s bed, and walking in on them had been the inciting incident of several masturbatory storylines. What would they do if she caught them for real?

As they neared the bedroom, Hermione slowed down to listen. Lucius’s voice could be heard floating through the open door. Snape’s reply followed, and Hermione was disappointed by the lack of heavy breathing and expletive-laced grunts.

Lucius asked Severus if he wanted more wine, and Hermione huffed in exasperation. They were just talking. Probably not naked. Coming to a stop in the open doorway, she spotted them in Lucius’s silver and cream sitting area next to the balcony. Damn. They were both dressed. Snape looked like a black smudge in his white wingback chair, and Lucius looked like a Persian cat, his platinum hair falling perfectly over his shoulders.

They both saw her at the same time, and their conversation fell silent.

Lucius smiled warmly and rose from his seat. “You’re here. And you found us. I should have left you a note downstairs.”

Hermione pulled Draco along to keep him from being left out, but he patted her arse to indicate she should greet them as she usually did. Grinning, she wrapped Lucius in a hug, and he tipped back her head for a hello kiss that lit up her clit like a flood light. Bloody hell, was there some conspiracy involving the Malfoy men and utter knicker destruction?

Drawing her into the solid strength of his arms, he utilized the shelter of his entire body to make her feel welcome. She had no idea how he did it, but her nervousness quieted in his unyielding embrace.

Lucius drew his finger down the bare skin of her chest, trailing along the neckline of her dress. “You look absolutely gorgeous tonight. Did Draco take you someplace nice?”

“Yes. Antonio’s.”

“This dress is far too exquisite for Antonio’s,” Lucius scoffed. “But it's definitely your color . . . Pulsating Pussy Red.”

Laughing, Hermione shook her head. “Most people call it crimson.”

“Most people have no sense of color,” he returned haughtily.

She snorted and pinched his nipple though his dress shirt. “You’re so right. I’ll call the crayon people in the morning and let them know about the name change.” She pecked his lower lip and gave him a wide smile. “Let me go say hi to Severus, and then we can talk.”

“Very well,” he whispered and placed a final kiss on her forehead before releasing her.

Hermione spun around, the sheared layers of her skirt flaring out below the knees where her mermaid dress loosened into floaty ripples. Severus wasn’t the only one who knew how to billow. She flashed him a crafty smile to let him know she’d been studying his technique.

Snape quirked his brow in an acerbic arch, but there was a tremor at the corner of his mouth, and she knew he was trying not to laugh. Hermione bent down and kissed his cheek. “I missed you,” she whispered.

He remained silent but she clearly saw the answering “And I you” in his eyes.

Hermione smiled to let him know she got the message.

Draco was sitting nearby on the divan, and she slipped into the space next to him. His arm automatically went around her, and he languidly tickled the bare curve of her shoulder.

Hermione leaned into the protective cove of his body and clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling.

Lucius sat back and crossed his leg as if settling in for a night of engaging conversation. “So what’s on the agenda tonight, my dear? Severus said you wanted to talk about something important.”

Hermione nodded and swallowed hard. How was her mouth so dry all the sudden? How could salvia just disappear in the blink of an eye? After unnecessarily clearing her throat a few times, she reached over and gripped Draco’s knee. Now that she was in the spotlight, her heart had decided that the proper course of action was to pound so hard her entire circulatory system throbbed like a bad migraine. For a second she was scared to open her mouth, worried that her dinner would finally make its great escape.

Draco reached across to wrap his fingers around her bloodless hand, and she smiled in thanks.

“Go ahead, love,” Draco murmured. “Out with it.”

Hermione took a deep breath and looked to Lucius and Severus. “I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately.”

When she hesitated, they both nodded at her to go on.

“I know all of you have been avoiding the subject, probably to ease some of my stress, which I appreciate, but I can’t _not_ think about it. You’re all constantly on my mind, and trying to choose between you is tearing me up inside. I can’t go on like this.”

A twinge of panic flickered over Lucius’s face, and Hermione realized he shared Draco's fears. Not wanting to worry him unnecessarily, she quickly continued, “I can’t choose. I won’t. The thought of giving up any of you makes me physically ill.”

“So what exactly are you saying?” Lucius asked quietly. “What do you want to do?”

“I want . . .” Hermione paused and stared at Draco’s hand, searching his manicured nails for the right words. She felt so greedy asking for even more, but she didn’t know what else to do. “I want all of you. For real. Not just this wait-and-see dating thing we’ve been doing. I came here today to tell each of you how much you mean to me.” She looked up at Draco and squeezed his hand. “And that I feel connected to all of you in ways I never have with anyone else.”

Draco grinned and tickled her knee with the side of his pinky.

Hermione heaved out a relieved breath—grateful that at least Draco was still on board—then turned to Lucius again. “If all of you feel the same way about me, then I’d like to see each of you more often—and by that, I mean as much as possible. Draco’s the only one I get to see every day, and I miss you and Severus so much during the week.”

She met Draco’s eyes again. “I don’t want any of you to feel competitive about this, because to me it’s not a competition. It’s . . . it’s as if the three of you make me whole. I know that sounds horribly cliché, but I don’t know how else to describe it.”

Lucius cleared his throat, and when she looked at him, he crossed his arms over his chest and began to trace the lines bracketing his mouth with the tip of his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve been thinking quite a bit as well.”

“About us?”

“Yes. I was thinking how I wanted to see more of you.”

Hermione’s heart almost exploded. He wasn’t upset. He wanted the same thing.

Lucius’s granite eyes dropped to her feet, his brow lowering into a tight line. “But then I wondered how in the hell we could possibly make such a thing work.”

Hermione’s face fell, her stomach hollowing out like a drum.

Lucius looked up, and when he saw her stricken expression, his eyes softened. “I realized there was only one answer that would satisfy all those involved . . . and that would be for you to move into Malfoy Manor.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open. Was he serious? Move into the manor? Her throat locked up, catching her breath in staggered gasps. Turning to Draco for help, she found him looking equally stunned.

“You _and_ Severus,” Lucius said with a pointed glance in Snape’s direction. “I think you both should live here. There’s plenty of room, and honestly, this place is too bloody quiet. It drives me absolutely insane.”

Snape just stared at him, not even blinking. Hermione couldn’t imagine what he must be thinking—but a seed of hope took root in her chest. She wanted Severus to say yes more than anything in the world.

“We can renovate the dungeon and put your lab down there if you’d like,” Lucius continued. “Hermione can see all of us every day—and we can see her. She can sleep with whomever she chooses . . . or alone if she gets sick of the sight of us. Draco can take her to work in the morning, and we can all have dinner together each night. Hermione will get the library she’s always dreamt of. And we can make you a study in one of the extra rooms if you don’t want to spend all your time in the dungeon.”

Severus licked his lips and titled his head in what was almost a contrite dip. “I think I should mention that . . . I’ve decided to retire.”

Lucius’s usual cool vanished, his blond brows arching toward the ceiling in animated surprise. “What? When?”

“I informed Minerva at the leaving feast that I wouldn’t be returning next year. She’s already interviewing candidates for the position.”

Lucius didn’t seem to know what to say. For several seconds, he just moved his jaw as if someone had forgotten to match up the audio with the action; but then he shook off the shock and wiped one hand down his face. When he met Snape’s eye again, he was smiling. “Are you sure you’re ready to give up the joys of teaching?” 

A tiny smirk tugged at Snape’s cheek. “I’ll miss Hogwarts, but familiarity isn’t reason enough to stay.”

Hermione’s voice made a valiant return, and she blurted out, “Now you can spend all day on your research and testing. That’s what you had in mind, right?”

Severus nodded, silently studying her.

She sank her teeth into her lower lip, debating whether or not she should state the obvious. A cautious smile pulled her lip from her bite, and she managed to sound relatively innocent when she said, “You could do that here.”

“I could. What about you? Will _you_ be reserving a room at Hotel Malfoy?”

Hermione’s heart raced, hammering against her breast like a carpenter on crack. This was a huge step—one that had completely caught her off guard—but every cell in her body screamed at her to accept. Should she follow her instincts? Or should she play it safe like she usually did? She looked up at Draco, who appeared to be on the verge of rapturous combustion. The light in his eyes told her all she needed to know—he was desperate for her to say yes.

Lucius was better at hiding his feelings, but even his facade was showing some uncharacteristic cracks. That piercing gaze drilled into her, as if willing her to accept with the power of his mind.

The only reservation she had was the possibility of public backlash. If people found out she was living at the Malfoy’s, the gossip train would jump the tracks, and the animosity she dealt with on a daily basis would hit a new high. 

But being with the three of them seemed so right; she’d never felt a pull that strong. The urge gathered in her like a building storm, the turbulent winds pushing her through the manor’s front door. Swallowing hard, Hermione closed her eyes and searched her soul for the right answer. Her heart and pussy were both voting yes. Her brain wavered, preparing to veto the proposal with some depressing logic that would protect her from any possible harm. But then, for absolutely no reason, she heard a clear yes in her head, and she blinked open her eyes in amazement. The decision was unanimous. “As long as Crookshanks is welcome . . . I accept your invitation.”

Draco grabbed her in a wild bear hug that almost lifted them both off the divan. “This is great! We can see each other all the time. We’ll go to work in the morning, and then we can come home and be together all night.”

Hermione was glad he was as excited as she was, but she did have practical matters to deal with. Like Harry and Ron. “What do you think I should tell everyone when they find out I’m living here?”

Draco waved off her worry. “Pick the room next to mine. We can share a bathroom, and I can peek at you in the shower.”

Snape gestured absently with one hand to catch her attention. “Everyone already thinks you’re dating Draco. They’ll just assume you’re shacking up.”

That sounded plausible.

“And Crookshanks is welcome here,” Lucius added. “Anything you want, just say the word.”

She couldn’t imagine what else she could want. Living with three wizards sounded like plenty.

“What should I do with my flat?” she asked Lucius. He knew about things like that.

“Do you want to keep it?”

Her gut said no. Some part of her believed that she’d never need it again. Her pragmatic side told her to keep it just in case, but then she figured if something horrible happened, she could always stay with friends until she found a new place. “No, I don’t need it anymore.”

Lucius smiled. “I’ll take care of it first thing tomorrow. Severus and I can pack up your belongings while you’re at work and have you moved in by day’s end.”

“Really? What are you going to do with all my furniture?”

“There’s tons of old furniture up in the attic—we’ll simply put it in storage.”

“How will I find anything?”

“We’ll put everything away in your new room the way it is at your flat.”

Severus narrowed his eyes at her and then snorted softly. “She’s scared we’re going to discover all her deep, dark secrets.”

Lucius leered with perverse curiosity. “What secrets?”

“They’re not secrets,” Hermione interjected, blushing brightly. “I just don’t want you jumping to any conclusions based on my toys . . . or reading material.”

Lucius burst into an unexpected guffaw but quickly got himself under control. “Severus and I won’t make any assumptions. Sometimes fantasies are just fantasies. And, when have any of us _ever_ asked you to tone down your reading material?”

A sheepish smile slipped over her lips. “Never.”

“And we never will. As for the toys, I think it’s safe to say, we’ll need you to provide detailed demonstrations on a nightly basis until we’ve all become compliant with the proper usage.”

Oh gods! All of them watching her get off, wanking over her as she fucked herself stupid with every toy she owned. Muffy started to drool, and Hermione had to lock her thighs together to keep from wetting her knickers. “Okay. That sounds good.” She met Snape’s eye and searched for some indication that he might also consider calling the manor home. “What about you, Severus?”

“I don’t have any secret toys. You’ve befriended my entire arsenal multiple times.”

Hermione’s face heated. “No, not the toys. I meant are you going to stay too? Here. With us.”

Severus frowned indecisively and stroked his chin between pinched fingers the way he did when mulling over a decision. “I don’t know . . .” 

Lucius made a small noise of disbelief that summed up the disappointment they were all feeling. When Severus saw their expressions, the side of his frown wobbled into a half-smile that made Hermione’s heart soar. He’d decided. That tricky bastard.

“I suppose a change in residence sounds acceptable,” Severus said nonchalantly.

Lucius actually let loose a real smile and sat back as if relaxing for the first time in weeks. “Excellent.”

Excellent was putting it lightly. Hermione felt as though all the chaos and confusion in her life had just been obliterated in less than fifteen minutes.

She wasn’t foolish enough to think that their union would be all sunshine and daisies; keeping such a complicated relationship afloat was going to take serious effort and commitment from all of them. But for the moment—at that very second—all was right with the world. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy. Truly happy. Not just relieved or content. Happy.

And her first happy thought was decidedly odd. She realized that their joyous occasion had been brought about by none other than the illustrious Muffy V. Granger. Her deranged pussy had catapulted her into a tempest of Slytherins and then informed her that that generous allotment wasn’t nearly enough. It was when she gave in to her desire that the floodgates had been blown wide open. Muffy had been leading her toward pleasure and fulfillment all along. Thanks to her cunning cunt she’d found three wonderful men who not only matched her passion and gave it right back to her but who sought to take her higher, to give her more than she’d ever dreamed.

 _‘Oh, so you’re listening to me now, are you?’_ her pussy drawled.

_You know I am._

_‘Then you’d better pull these three together as soon as possible and get them working as a team.’_

Hermione smiled. Team Granger. Without consulting a single book, she knew exactly how to proceed.

Grabbing Draco by the back of the head, she gripped his silken blond hair in her fist and pulled him down for a celebratory snog. As soon as their tongues met, he was moaning and easing her back as if he wanted to mount her right there on the divan. Hermione didn’t even try to contain her giggling; she was too punch drunk to control her giddy response.

His lips left her floundering, his kiss cutting off all access to her rational mind. Her brain pitched about, swimming in her skull until she felt as if she was about to capsize. When she pulled back for air, Draco nuzzled her nose and continued to drizzle her bottom lip with love.

“Mmmmmm,” she purred. “You know I need more, but I don’t want Lucius and Severus to feel left out.”

Draco smirked and gave her one last quick peck. “Nanny told me good boys share.”

Hermione sputtered with laughter but nodded in agreement. “Yes, she did. And you’re a very good boy, aren’t you?”

He growled and pulled her closer. “ _Your_ good boy,” he whispered in her ear.

Her heart did a spastic tap dance in her chest, and the backs of her eyes burned with ecstatic tears. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and clutched him to her breast to keep her heart from beating out her body. “Yes. _My_ good boy,” she murmured.

“And you’ll stay with me tonight?” he whispered. “In my bed.”

“All night, love.”

When she stroked his cheek, he turned his head and kissed her fingers, allowing his devious tongue to linger on her thumb before taking her by the hand and helping her up.

“Go on,” he said with false innocence. “I’ll be waiting.”

Hermione returned his sly look and then spun around to face Lucius. His mouth opened, and she could tell by the set of his upper lip that he was going to make some snide comment about Draco hogging her attention. So she simply pounced before he could complain. Bending down, she sealed her lips to his and then, as she plundered his mouth in a no holds barred oral assault, she hitched up her skirt and climbed into his lap. When her pussy was snug against the soft bulge growing in his trousers, Lucius made a low noise of enthusiastic awe deep in his chest. With a firm jerk, he held her against his body and countered her tactical maneuvers with a few hip thrusts of his own.

His tongue was hungry for hers, and Hermione sank into his embrace as he tasted every inch of her mouth. Although he sometimes let her take command of the kissing, he would often slip back into the captain’s chair with no warning. The sudden switch always caught her off guard, but for some reason, when he did it this time, it made her want to break into delirious laughter.

Pulling back, she sighed out a titter and affectionately brushed his cheek with her fingertips. “Thank you for asking us to stay here, Lucius. That was really thoughtful of you.”

He grinned broadly and rested his forehead against hers. “It was purely selfish on my part. I wanted nothing more than to have you in this very position every single day.”

“That’s not selfish; it’s honest.”

His forehead twitched with a curious quirk. “We can do this every morning if you like . . . and when you come home from work.”

Mmmmm, the Slytherin Special.

“We can have breakfast sex in the morning whenever you like.”

Hermione snickered. “Sounds entertaining. What else are we going to do?”

“Now that it’s summer, we can use the pool. You can go skinny dipping; no one will see you except us.”

“I’ve never been skinny dipping. Are you going to come in with me?”

“Possibly. I’m sure Draco will volunteer. He’s out there most days.”

“What about Snape? He looks like a mean Marco Polo player.”

Lucius chortled, his eyes darting over to the man in black. “I’m sure he is. I’ve never seen him in the pool though.”

“Perhaps you just didn’t offer the proper incentive.”

“I never offered any incentive. Do you really think you can talk him into it?”

Smiling sweetly, Hermione rolled her pelvis against his distended crotch. “Let’s find out. Severus?” she said, turning to look over her shoulder. “When I get home from work tomorrow, do you want to go swimming with me?”

Surprisingly, Snape looked quite interested. “What will you be wearing?”

“My birthday suit.”

One side of his mouth curled into what she could only describe as a contemplative leer. "I've always wanted to give you a soaking wet spanking.”

Hermione shivered as the lubrication filling her folds spilled over and trickled past her labia. _Yes, please!_ “You’ll go swimming with me? Starkers?”

“I will if Lucius does.”

She turned back to Lucius with a grin of triumph, and he burst out laughing when she celebrated her victory with a gleeful mini-dance.

Gracefully inclining his head, he congratulated her, “I bow to your superior powers of persuasion.”

Hermione peered over her shoulder so she could see Draco. “You have to be naked with us too.”

"You don’t have to talk me into it, love.”

“Oh, I’m definitely going to like it here,” Hermione said wickedly, turning back to Lucius.

“And I intended to keep it that way,” Lucius replied as he leaned in and touched his mouth to hers 

Hermione gave him a heartfelt kiss but pulled back before he could shift into full snogging mode. “Hold on,” she whispered, placing a finger to his lips. “I want to make sure Severus gets a proper welcome too.”

A lazy smile settled over his face, and he relaxed his grip on her hips. “Very well. To be continued.”

He helped her up, and Hermione scurried over to Snape, falling into his lap with a smooth twirl. Her arms went around his neck, and she pecked his cheek before pulling him in for a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re staying,” she whispered. “I’d miss you terribly if you were the only one not here.”

She kissed his jaw to punctuate her point, and he snaked his arm around her waist to draw her closer. His lips found her ear, and she shivered when he murmured his reply in a velvety rumble. “I expect you to visit me in my lab every day. Preferably naked.”

Hermione snorted and leaned back to look at him. His obsidian eyes were softer than usual, and he actually looked pleased by her clingy snuggling. 

“I’ll do my best,” she said with mock earnestness, “but it sounds awfully chilly.”

“I’m sure we’ll find some way to keep you warm,” he purred, and then in a complete departure from his usual modus operandi, he pressed his lips to her temple in the softest kiss she’d ever experienced.

Hermione’s heart leapfrogged her larynx, filling her throat, and it took several seconds before she remembered to breathe. What had brought that on? Was he so caught up in the moment that he broke his own no-kissing edict, or had they met some milestone she was unaware of? Looking into his eyes, she saw no regret. Only amusement. As if her befuddlement struck his funny bone.

She was so confounded she had no idea how to react. It felt as if they’d been on some long, perilous journey and, suddenly, they’d made it safely to shelter together. The only thing competing with the heart-jolting elation she felt was the sheer relief. That he wanted her. That he had it in him. That he wasn’t as detached as he pretended.

“Is it time for our housewarming orgy?” Severus murmured, tenderly brushing her hair back from her face. 

The tingling trail of his touch lingered on her skin like sparkling fairy dust. Hermione nodded blankly. She couldn’t think straight—his lips were mesmerizing. She stared at them, wondering how, after all those long hours in his classroom, she could have overlooked the sensuality of that fascinating mouth.

“Perhaps you should show Lucius how much you appreciate his hospitality,” he said with a devious quirk of his lips that made her pussy contract.

“Are you going to help me?” she countered.

Severus chuckled. “I’ve already shown Lucius my appreciation today.”

She put on her saddest face. “Without me?”

Smiling, he shook his head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And imaginative. If you knew what I make you and Lucius do in my head . . .” She trailed off with an enigmatic smile.

Severus traced the curve of her cheek and then drew his fingers to her chin in a smooth curl. Leaning in so their noses bumped and his mouth hovered directly over hers, he whispered, “Wait until you see the real thing.”

Hermione’s stomach tumbled over itself, the warmth of his words steaming her lips, and the suggestion lighting up her brain like a pornographic sparkler. Her exhalation stuttered out, shaky with want, and he parted his lips ever so slightly, as if inhaling her need.

He didn’t shift positions, and she didn’t dare move. Hermione wanted to stay right there, breathing in the dark heat straight from his mouth. Every cell in her body was suddenly wide awake, and the heady scent of bourbon and chocolate on his breath had her high as a kite.

With a slow-motion tilt of his head, Severus shrouded them behind a privacy curtain of black hair, and her stomach went from fluttering to throbbing, as if her pulse were now centered in her duodenum.

He licked his lips, but they were so close, Hermione couldn’t see it—she could _feel_ the damp slide of his tongue just a millimeter away. Her nerve endings were wired. She drew in a shuddery gasp that made it sound as if she’d forgotten to breathe, but her body was just so desperate for more oxygen she was certain she’d implode if she didn’t inhale the whole room.

And that was when she felt it. The barest pressure, as if a feather had fluttered onto her lower lip. He placed the gentlest kiss imaginable in the center . . . and then two more to either side, as if he didn’t want to miss an inch. Her entire body thrummed, dangling on the edge of surreality.

Severus delicately sipped her bottom lip into his mouth, and Hermione’s insides melted like a candle in a raging inferno. Oh gods! Was that her moaning? She wasn’t totally sure. Her face was tingling so hard, she couldn’t tell if those were sound vibrations tickling her lips or just hallucinatory jolts of pleasure.

The slick tip of his tongue traced the seam of her mouth, and she shivered in his arms. _Holy fuck! Do it again!_

But he didn’t. Instead, he dispensed a swath of soft kisses over her upper lip and then leaned back and looked into her eyes. She couldn’t move . . . or detect any brain activity. Was she non-functional now?

Snape smiled as if he were pleased by her comatose state, and he ran his thumb along her chin . . . down to her throat . . . and then down to her chest, where he fingered the rounded border or her dress’s neckline.

“Why don’t you take this off and show Lucius what he’s gotten himself into.”

Hermione nodded. _Yes. Sounds brilliant. Any tips on how to strip without the use of one’s arms and legs?_

Severus’s smile quirked higher, and he slid his other hand to her back where he found the top of her zipper. “Shall I do the honors?”

Hermione nodded again.

Snape’s fingertips swirled in a light circle, tickling the skin between her shoulder blades before he began to lower the zip with all the speed of a lethargic tortoise. He somehow angled his hand so the scarred pad of his index finger slipped over her spine on the way down—and when he got to the base, he splayed his warm palm against her naked skin and brushed his thumb along the small of her back, right above her knickers.

Hermione convulsed and arched hard, her body wailing for more. Apparently she wasn’t paralyzed after all.

“There you go,” he murmured. “Lucius is going to love what you’ve got on under there.” 

His eyes dropped to her breasts, and she realized he was getting a sneak preview down her loosened bodice. Hermione’s skin prickled as his black gaze caressed her cleavage. She looked over at Lucius, who was watching them hungrily, his grey eyes half-lidded with lust. Turning her head in the other direction, she saw Draco opening his belt, his tented trousers ready to burst at the seams.

A ripple of excitement coursed through her veins, and her nipples hardened to painful spikes against her bra. Breathing deeply, she accepted Snape’s proffered hand and rose from his lap. Her head was spinning, but she wanted to ride the rush and take advantage of her heightened senses. If they touched her while she was still electrified from that kiss, she might light up the whole room with the power of her pussy.

As she stood, her dress began to slip, and instead of stopping it, she encouraged gravity to have its way with the garment. Undulating her upper body, she let her arms go slack, and the dress dropped to the floor in a whoosh of crimson flame.

Her bra and knickers were also red, but overlaid with burgundy lace. When Lucius saw them, his head lowered in a wolfish dip, as if he was scenting the air for prey.

Muffy gushed out a silent invitation for him to come and sniff her out.

Hermione smiled and stepped out of her discarded dress. She wanted to make sure Lucius got a good look at his newest gifts before she took them off.

Stopping a foot from Lucius’s chair, she fanned her fingers across her chest and leaned her weight onto her left hip. Something about being the center of their collective desire made her body do the most unexpected things. It wasn’t just the lecherous attention or the longing in their eyes—it was the men behind the erections. It was the pleasure she found in _them_ and the magic they shared together.

Peeking over her shoulder at Draco, Hermione was delighted to find him already unzipped, cock in hand. With a luxurious half turn, she faced him head on. Or tits-on as the case may be. His roving eye landed on her chest and froze as if enraptured by the presentation. She started toward him, swaying her hips to make sure Lucius and Severus were getting the full effect of her sheer knickers.

She stopped in front of Draco and slid her hands over her bra. Draco started to pant, and his wanking-fist tightened. This was how she liked to tease him when he was tied up: slowly stripping, reminding him what he could be doing, touching herself until he was begging to do it for her. He wasn’t restrained now, but he looked just as desperate.

Reaching back, she hooked her fingers around her bra catch, and after an unnecessarily long pause, popped it open. Draco’s brow puckered, and she knew if they were alone, he’d be whimpering for more. Crossing her arms, she eased the lace down and let it slide to the floor. As soon as her breasts were bare, Draco was leaning forward as if he might tackle her, but Hermione tossed him her bra, almost hitting him in the face, which snapped him out of his Seeker’s trance.

He had to remain seated until she was done undressing . . . and she still had a pair of soggy knickers to peel out of her pussy.

Slipping her thumbs into the elastic at her hips, she wiggled the sides a few inches lower. Then she glanced back at Lucius to make sure he was watching.

Not only was he watching, it looked as if he’d been hit by a Petrificus Totalus, his grey eyes zeroed in on her bum, his posture stiff as a statue. His stare was almost tactile, and her skin erupted in a wave of gooseflesh. She could feel the need rolling off his rigid body, and it surrounded her in a fuzzy haze of sensuality. In his eyes she glimpsed a touch of both carnality and affection, animalistic passion and safety.

Hermione took a deep breath, savoring his unique blend of raw sexuality. Her clit purred in approval.

Blinking herself back into reality, she glanced over her other shoulder at Severus. He was staring right back at her, his inky eyes hooded but warm—the same look he sported when she was on top and he was enjoying the ride. He subtly licked his lips, and Hermione felt a corresponding tickle over her own mouth. Her body seemed to still be tuned to his, their nerve endings still intimately connected.

Smiling to herself, she turned back to Draco, who had her bra clutched to his face as if he couldn’t breathe without it. Hermione gave him a conspiratorial smirk and slowly bent over, sticking out her arse as far as she could toward Severus and Lucius and then edging her knickers down to her thighs.

Being completely drenched, her gusset stayed plastered in place. She could feel it wedged between her lips, and she knew they only way to free it was to either tug it out or loosen her pussy’s grip. She opted for the latter.

Arching her back as deeply as she could, Hermione opened her crevice slightly, and cold air swept over previously concealed areas. It wasn’t quite enough. Stepping her feet further apart, she gave them an X-rated view that the gossip rags would have paid a million Galleons to get their hands on.

Her knickers found the freedom they needed, and when she rolled them down her thighs, she swore she heard the squidgy suction of sopping material being pried from a swamp. Face hot, she mashed her mouth tight to keep from giggling.

Pulling her legs back together, she eased her panties to her knees, and they plummeted to the ground with a heavy weight that could only be caused by absolute saturation. 

She observed her own lubrication with scientific interest. How the hell had she made all that without falling prey to dehydration? When she lifted her foot to disentangle herself from the puddle, someone growled behind her.

“Those. Are. Mine,” Lucius ground out. “Bring them here.”

A trickle of ready agreement dripped from her labia. Taking a deep breath, Hermione rose and snagged her knickers with the tip of one finger, dangling them on her nail as she slunk over to Lucius like a badass goddess on the catwalk. She didn’t even know her body could move like that—but it seemed to be drawing its newfound slinkiness from the sexual energy pervading the room.

When she was toe-to-toe with the elder Malfoy, she coyly bit her lower lip and swung the red lace back and forth as if to hypnotize him.

Quick as a cobra, his hand shot out and caught her by the wrist. His eyes wandered over the gusset, his lip curling in a feral smirk. “What’s all this, my dear?”

Her heart was pounding, riled by his strong fingers and the dark caress of his refined voice. “I’m so wet, sir. I think need to come.”

He pulled her closer, drawing her panties toward his face. When the lace touched his nose, he inhaled deeply, and his eyelids drooped until she could see nothing but thin slits of grey. “And how would our favorite princess like to come tonight? The choice is all yours.” 

Hermione’s mind raced with a million images at once. “Anything I want?” she whispered. The possibilities were endless—and yet she knew her answer without a doubt.

Lucius chuckled and nipped the lace from her finger with his teeth. He dropped her knickers into his lap and, using his other hand, stuffed them into his pocket. “Anything at all,” he murmured and then kissed the inside of her wrist. “I’m dying to know what kind of ideas those ribald books of yours have been inspiring.”

Her cheeks flared. Draco had heard a few of her fantasies, but she’d never had to spell out her desires to all of them at once. That was far more intimidating than a one-on-one revelation. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Only if it’s funny,” Lucius countered.

“I’m serious.”

“It’s already getting funnier.”

“Lucius!”

“All right, all right,” he said with a placating smile. “I promise not to laugh.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I . . . I want you all to come on me.”

True to his word, he didn’t laugh, but his lips were dangerously twitchy. “Don’t we always?”

“No. I mean, yes you do, but I . . . I want you all to come on me at roughly the same time.”

“What, like a bukkake bonanza?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow. “On your face?”

“Or my tits,” she said, looking down at them. “Anywhere you want really. Just don’t hit me in the eye or anything.”

Lucius looked at Snape. “Did you hear that request?”

Severus nodded once, his eyes somehow growing even darker.

Smiling fondly, Lucius brushed his fingertips along her open palm and then loosely twined his fingers through hers. “How do you want to do it?”

Hermione looked over her shoulder at the room and shrugged. “I guess I could kneel on the floor and you three could stand around me. I could suck you and touch you till you’re ready to come, then you could all . . . take over.”

“You mean wank in your face?”

Her body pulsed with a surge of knee-quaking arousal. “Yes.”

“And how are we to pleasure you if you’re on the floor?”

“I guess you could get me off afterward.”

“If I might make a suggestion,” Snape interjected.

“By all means,” Lucius replied cordially, as if they were discussing dinner plans.

“I think she should get on the bed and masturbate for us. If she’s on her back, we’ll have a wider range of available . . . targets.”

“That does sound preferable,” Lucius agreed heartily. “What say you, Miss Granger? Would you like to be spread out on the bed for us . . . every inch of your luscious body on display?”

“Yes, sir,” she husked. “But . . . just one more thing.”

“Name it.”

Hermione leaned down and brushed her lips over his. “If I’m going to live here, you have to stop calling me Miss Granger.”

Lucius smiled broadly. “But it makes you so wet.”

“No, _you_ make me wet,” she clarified in a heated whisper. “ _Mr._ Malfoy.”

Chuckling, he conceded with a brief nod. “I can still call you princess, can’t I?”

“Oh, yes,” she assured him. “I love being your princess.”

Lucius placed a light kiss on her lower lip, and a flood of tingling heat raced through her face. His fingers trailed down her neck, and she almost lost her balance. Holy hell! Thank Godric they weren’t all coming on to her at once—she might have passed out from sensory overload.

“Why don’t you climb up on the bed and get comfortable. We’ll join you as soon as possible.”

Hermione smiled and, as she turned, kept her fingers wrapped around his, lingering until distance forced them to drift apart. She wanted to take the bed at a running vault and beach herself on the comforter like a naked starfish, but she knew the value of presenting herself in the best light. The more turned on they were, the more fun for all involved.

As she passed Draco, who was blindly removing his clothes so he could keep both eyes on her, she gave his leaking knob an appreciative look and suggestively wetted her lips. He started stripping in double time, leaving his clothes in a rumpled heap around his seat.

Hermione smiled and kicked off her shoes as she climbed up and crawled across Lucius sinfully soft bedding. It was like kneeling on a downy cloud. Smoothing her hands over the material, she reveled in the satiny slip under her fingers.

_More!_

Arching her back, she dropped her chest and let her stiff nipples graze the surface. The buds tightened to bullets, and she moaned quietly.

The silken honey dribbling from her center surged out in a fresh wave. Oh gods! She needed to come. Were they undressed yet? She peered around her arm. Severus was still unbuttoning his shirt, but Lucius was half naked. And Draco seemed to be engaged in a battle of wills with his trousers and shoes, obviously trying to take off the former before removing the latter.

Hermione huffed anxiously and buried her face in the comforter to stifle her groan. Sliding down flat, she rubbed her over-sensitized skin against Lucius’s luxurious bedding, rolling and grinding and stimulating her clit indirectly to get herself going.

When she couldn’t stand the anticipation any longer, she flipped over and spread her knees, stroking her inner thigh with one hand, creeping up on her pussy to keep it guessing. Her other hand skied along the hills of her breasts; she wouldn’t touch her nipples yet—not until they were stiff and begging for it.

Her sneaky right hand wandered into her bush and skimmed over the surface, just barely buzzing the tips. Her hips went mad and bucked her into a high arch. _Holy_ _fucking hell, they’_ _d better hurry!_ Relaxing back down, she opened her legs wider and swooped past from the other direction. Her clit pulsated —hard—and she winced at the sharp urgency.

_Just a bit more._

Extending her middle finger, she traced the line of her slit with one upward swipe. Her pelvis quivered as she passed over her clit, and she gasped out loud, shocked to find the little nubbin so swollen that it poked past her outer lips. Grazing it once more, she hissed, feeling as if the bundle of nerves had been stripped of its protective hood and laid bare to the elements.

Hermione closed her eyes, and tested her nipple to see if it was equally exposed. The gathered tip was rock hard to match her clit, and bumping it produced the most delicious ache that tugged at her core.

As lightly as possible, she continued to brush and tap at the pebbled flesh, sending bolts of shuddery zaps down to her pussy. 

There were times when she sought out a rough touch—pinching, slapping, pounding—but other times, like this, her body seemed to switch to some other wavelength, where even a breeze could tease her to the edge of climax. She loved to play in that state, hovering at the brink, building herself up as slowly as she could, reveling in each buzz and clench.

She knew that the immense pressure in her pelvis foretold of a orgasm that would obliterate Lucius’s bed in a tidal wave of juice. Had her Slytherins spotted the telltale pussy pulses that indicated an imminent orgasm? Hermione spread her legs wider and prayed they’d see how little time was left.

Someone brushed her cheek, and Hermione’s eyes snapped open. She couldn’t help grinning when she found Snape kneeling to the right of her head, his straining cock directly in her face. What an angle. He smirked down at her, and loosely pumped his shaft with one hand.

“Ready?” he asked sarcastically.

Hermione nodded and looked around for Lucius and Draco. Draco was on her left, kneeling by her chest. Lucius crawled into the vee of her open legs, his knees right at her buttocks, the hand gripping his cock not an inch from her pussy. She could feel the muggy heat of his sex roasting her vulva, and the subtle sensation had her keening piteously.

Draco caressed the underside of her breast, his fingertips feather light, just as hers had been. “I can take care of this if you like.”

He neared her nipple, and Hermione’s body involuntarily spasmed. “I like!” she assured him.

Draco smirked and delicately circled her areola.

Lucius slid two deft fingers into her pussy, filling her and stimulating every hot spot he could reach. “I’ll lend my assistance as well . . . but we all want to see you getting yourself off, so keep polishing that shiny pearl, princess. Don’t you dare stop.”

Stop? She was living out one of her most long-held fantasies; she couldn’t stop if she wanted to. Lifting her head, she surveyed her surroundings, and Muffy went absolutely mental. _Coooooocks_ _!_ _Are you seeing this? Merciful Merlin! Look how hard they all are. And that smell . . . Goddammit girl, I'm starving_.

Draco was gently painting the side of her breast with his drippings as he ghosted his fingertips across her chest. Lucius was stroking himself at roughly the same pace as Draco, his velvety head tapping her inner thigh like a hot poker. He quirked his brow when he saw her gawping, and Hermione responded by dipping her middle finger between her lips and lightly circling the perimeter of her swollen nub. Fuck! She didn’t know if her overeager clit was responding to the sexy situation or the expertise of Lucius's wiggling digits. Or maybe it was Draco’s insistent nipple play. He was a master of scintillation, skimming each bud with the grace of a figure skater. Every time he hit a speed bump, her hips jolted with an electric shock. Hermione watched his movements with rapt concentration, wondering when the next tremor would hit.

Severus turned her face toward his with his free hand. “Is this what you’ve always wanted, little girl? A wizard to satisfy your every wish?”

She looked up at him and nodded, unable to convey the magnitude of bliss suffusing her body at that very moment.

When he saw how desperate she’d become, Severus smiled and nudged her cheek with the damp crown of his cock. Hermione turned to engulf him, but he pulled away.

“Uh uh uh. What do you say?”

“Please may I suck you, sir?”

A snakey grin pulled at his mouth, but he shook his head in denial. “No, you many not. But if you would like to kiss it, I’ll allow that.”

Well of course she wanted to kiss it. Who wouldn’t? Hermione nodded in agreement and waited for him to bring that beast back within reach. Snape gave her a warning look and carefully laid his glistening tip against her lips. The contact made her entire mouth tingle. Keeping her lips soft, she kissed his frenulum and then extended her tongue to taste the musky salt flowing from his fluted head.

“Just lips,” he admonished.

Hermione sighed and did her best to stimulate him without licking. He kept sliding his fist along his shaft, and she sucked his shifting foreskin every time it folded over the ridge of his corona. She wanted to stick out her tongue on the next slide and trap it in a cocoon of cock, but she had a feeling that if she deliberately disobeyed him, he’d call a halt to her pleasure and spank her in front of everyone.

Not that that sounded awful, she just didn’t want to lose her pussy momentum. And a spanking might knock her out of her hyperawareness.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “You’re going to have to tell us when you’re getting closer. Simultaneous orgasms are difficult under any circumstance, but when there are this many people involved, it becomes much more complicated. You have to keep us updated if you want us to come with you.”

“How?”

“On a scale of one to ten, how close are you right now?”

“Ten is orgasm?”

He nodded.

“I guess seven.” But it would be eight if she actually touched her clit instead of dancing around its boundaries.

Snape glanced at the other two wizards and nodded. “We’ll catch up. Tell us whenever you go up a number.”

Hermione didn’t know if she could play statistician in the heat of the moment. It was rather distracting having all three of them touching her at once . . . and she was never all that coherent once Snape’s cock was out and about.

He bounced his glans against her lips, and she automatically rolled out the taste bud welcome mat. How many times had he told her to stick out her tongue so he could spank it with his cock? Okay, maybe spank was too strong a word, but she liked the images it conjured. He couldn’t teach her to respond one way and then expect her not to react on instinct.

Snape frowned. “What did I just say?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s an automatic reaction.”

Lucius chuckled. “Now that’s what I call training.”

Severus shook his head. “It’s not about doing things automatically. It’s about control and being present. We’ll work on that more later. I know how much you enjoy following directions.”

Did she ever. And Snape's directions were the best. Draco lightly pinched her nipple, and her eyes flew to his.

"Is that where you learned to order me around?”

She managed to grin around her delirious panting. “Mostly.”

"No wonder you’re so good at it.”

Lucius curled his fingers, and the liquid pressure in her pelvis screamed for release. “You’re so swollen inside, princess. Are you preparing to christen my bed?”

She moaned, “Yes,” into Snape’s heavy hard-on.

“Hear that, Severus? High tide on the horizon.”

The sloppy squish of her sex was mortifyingly loud. It sounded as if a wall of water was churning inside her, waiting to be unleashed. Hearing the proof of her own excitement turned her on even more. “Eight!”

Severus chuckled. “Yes, I do hear it. Perhaps we should alert the coast guard.”

Draco gently tugged her nipple, and she arched off the bed. “Unh!” Her pussy kicked things up a notch, but instead of rubbing faster, she almost stopped. Overstimulation would only slow her roll. “Eight and a half.”

Severus pulled himself from between her lips and drew an “S” across her cheek, leaving a wet trail cooling in its wake. “Lucius was right—you look lovely tonight, Miss Granger.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Draco tweaked her other nipple, and chills shot down her spine. She grabbed hold of his forearm with her left hand and clamped on.

Hissing, he flexed his muscles to fend off the gouging. “Not so rough, Hermione. I think I’m bleeding.”

Lucius sniffed derisively. “Don’t be such a pussy. You should count yourself lucky to be wounded in battle.”

Draco flashed him a glaring sneer that made Hermione’s heart clench. Before they could get started on each other, she rubbed the scratch marks from Draco's arm with the pad of her thumb and murmured, “Draco is _not_ a pussy. Please play nice, Lucius.”

Lucius rolled his eyes but acquiesced with a nod.

Hermione grinned secretively at Draco. “I just get carried away when you touch me.”

Draco’s smile transformed his face from stormy anger to cruisy calm. “I know, love. I’m covered in black and blue reminders. I couldn't make it through the day without them.”

Severus was studying her again. She wished she were a Legilimens so she could understand him a little. His eyes wandered over Draco's body, and she knew he was looking for injuries. _Good luck; they're all on his back and bum._ He healed the rope burns so no one at work would see them . . . and he had probably healed his bum too so his father and Snape wouldn't guess what they’d been up to.

“Still at an eight and a half, Miss Granger?”

She nodded. 

“Does Lucius need to finger your bottom?”

Her cheeks went pink with humiliation, and her pussy threatened her with a series of rippling twitches. How did he do that?

“By the color of your face, I'm going to guess yes. Ask him nicely and tell him how much you like it.”

 _Bloody hell! This is a lubricious nightmare_. But she wanted that finger more than anything. 

“Um . . . Lucius . . . will you please . . .” Fuck! Asking out loud was harder than she expected. Having an audience was giving her performance anxiety. “Will you . . . finger my arse? I love it.”

“Nice try,” Lucius said with a snicker. “If I know Severus, that was nowhere near acceptable.”

One finger brushed her backdoor, and a spasm rocked her sphincter. “Nine!”

“Lucius is right,” Severus purred. “Say ‘Please finger my naughty bottom. I’m a dirty little girl who needs filling. I love the way you stretch me.”

What! As if she could remember all that.

“Say it,” he growled.

“Please finger my naughty bottom, Lucius. I . . . I can’t remember what else you said.”

“I’m a dirty little girl who needs filling.”

Hermione almost burst into hysterics at his pronouncement, but she knew levity wouldn’t get her a bum full of finger anytime soon. “I’m a dirty little girl who needs filling,” she repeated.

“I love the way you stretch me.”

Well, that was factual. “I love the way you stretch me,” she said, meeting Mr. Malfoy’s eyes.

“Much better,” Lucius murmured.

He added a third finger to her pussy, lubing all three in her ample silk. Then he eased his ring finger free, and the juicy tip prodded her pucker.

“Mm-m-m,” she whimpered. “Nine and a half! Nine and a half! Nine and a half!”

When she unthinkingly stuck out her tongue again, Severus pulled away with a reproachful frown. She couldn’t help it. Her mouth wanted to suck, and his dick was right there.

"Third infraction, little girl. Your backside is going to be glowing tonight.”

“Nine and three quarters!”

Draco started laughing, but she noticed everybody was priming the pumps a lot faster.

Lucius’s fingertip wiggled inside, and her eyes rolled back. Hermione carefully pressed her clit, barely moving, riding the edge of ecstasy.

“I think that spanking might lead to round two.” Lucius said, his chuckle rich and low. “She must have been leaking all over the bed when you paddled her last night.” 

Snape’s smile was wickedly smooth. “She was. And you should have seen the state of that paddle. She gave it another coat of lacquer.”

Did Snape tell Lucius everything they did? She didn’t know if that was hot or humiliating. Muffy spilled out a trickle of “yea” votes for hot.

Severus cupped the side of her face with one hand and drew the warm pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. Whimpering plaintively, Hermione opened her mouth, hoping he’d take pity on her and fill it with something phallic. A look of interest flickered in his onyx eyes, and raising two fingers in benediction, he blessed her with both digits. Hermione moaned gratefully as he caressed her tongue and gently fucked her mouth with a sensual in and out that spoke of teasing patience rather than passion. He was playing with her again, possibly testing to see just how little it took to get her off. 

“Take her over, Draco. She’s just about there,” Snape murmured.

Draco’s touch skirted the summit of her left nipple, strumming lightly before slotting the bud between his index and middle finger. She knew what was coming, and when he snipped his fingers closed and tugged, she saw stars. Snape’s digits abridged her “ten,” but she did her best, “Ehh!”

Her pussy seized, and an avalanche of pleasure took hold of her body. White light exploded behind her eyelids, and her muscles trembled so violently she was afraid she might inadvertently hurt one of them. Liquid surged from her folds, drenching Lucius in a sudden deluge, and her brain instantaneously went blank, the baptism washing her mind clean.

The warm spatter of Draco’s ejaculate fell across her chest like summer rain, and not a second later Lucius spilled his seed over her lower abdomen. A wet blob blasted her cheek, and she would have flinched if her eyes hadn’t already been shut. Snape dragged his pulsing knob down her face and the next squall hit her chin and dribbled into the valley of her throat.

Being covered in the proof of their lust—in triplicate—was the strangest sensation. Hermione let go of Draco’s arm and clasped the cameo Severus had left at her throat. She rubbed his essence into her skin and slid her hand down to her breasts, where she smeared Draco’s contribution into her thudding heart. Lower, her hand smoothing over her belly, she found Lucius’s deposit. Massaging it into her mound, Hermione smiled, delighted by the tingling warmth dancing over her skin.

Instead of coming down from her high, she stayed in its thrall for half a minute more, pirouetting on the brink of mindless euphoria. Her skin prickled and flushed, as if she’d just walked into a freezer and found the sun. Her nipples peaked, stiff as frozen marble. Every inch of her body tuned to a higher frequency. A single stroke of a feather would have shattered her sanity. “Oh God!”

She reached for Draco and Severus and tightened her legs around Lucius in an attempt to steady herself. The whirling room slowly returned to normal, but the pulsating thrum pumping through her veins didn’t diminish. Her skin was electric, sparking and humming like an engine.

Lucius stroked her thigh, and Severus skimmed his fingers over her forehead. She almost bridged off the bed in a spastic fit. “Fuck!”

Draco rested his hand in the center of her chest and eased her back down. “You all right, love?”

“Open your eyes, Miss Granger.”

Hermione blinked and found Snape in her face.

He pressed his palm to her forehead. “You’re burning up. Are you all right?”

“My skin is buzzing,” she whispered.

The valley between his eyebrows deepened. “Still?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled softly. “I think you’d better rest before we try anything else. Draco, why don’t you get her a glass of water.”

“Sure,” Draco said as he bent down to kiss her clean cheek. “Be right back.”

Her eyes fluttered as the tickle from his lips rippled across her skin like concentric circles in a pond. “Thank you.” She _was_ awfully warm.

“You ate enough, didn’t you?” Lucius asked as he traced a circular path around her bellybutton. 

Hermione reached down and touched his hand to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. “Yes.”

Lucius wove their fingers together, and Snape settled on his side next to her. When Hermione turned and looked at him, he leaned in and kissed her forehead. Her eyes drifted shut. The residual hum still skittered over her skin, but she suddenly felt much better. Tranquil even. 

Blinking open her eyes, she smiled at him. “I think I’m ready to do that again.”

Lucius chuckled and squeezed her fingers. “Severus is right. We all need a break after that. And we have plenty of time to _welcome you home_.”

Hermione loved the sound of that. Her new home.

With her three Slytherins.

She began to giggle, the remaining tension in her body floating away. Having no idea what had struck her as funny, she laughed even harder, wondering if there was some truth to the myth that excessive masturbation made a person mad.

 “What’s with her?” Draco asked, carrying a glass of water over to the bed.

Lucius wiggled his fingers inside of her, and she shuddered with a powerful aftershock before bursting into riotous laughter. Slapping her hand over her face, she attempted to rein in the crazy, but she just wound up spattering Snape’s remaining jizz all over her face . . . which she found positively hilarious.

Lucius patted her flank in a soothing manner. “Some witches get the giggles after a good orgasm. Just let it run its course.”

When she began to snort into her palm, they all started snickering, and Severus wrapped his hand around her wrist to peel her hand from her face. “Now you’ve destroyed your dessert. I’ll have to make you another batch.”

Hermione glanced at her glistening hand and, without thinking, licked his cream from her fingers. She could taste all three of them on her skin, their combined essences spackling the cracks crisscrossing her palm. The guffaws died back down to giggles, and she sighed heavily, relieved she could breathe normally again. 

Going still, she closed her eyes and tried to identify the different notes of flavor as they washed over her tongue. It was impossible. They were all blending together. Opening her eyes, she smiled up at them and made the only request a witch could make when surrounded by three delicious Slytherins whose balls were apparently loaded with nothing but salty white chocolate: “More.”

Her new roommates did _not_ disappoint. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concerto—A composition written for a solo instrument. The soloist plays the melody while the orchestra plays the accompaniment.
> 
> "Feel It" by Kate Bush. Written by Kate Bush and released in 1978. This song came out on Kate's debut album, The Kick Inside, when she was 19; but many of the songs were written when she was in high school. I love Kate, and this is one of my favorites. I have a soft spot for all songs about female sexuality, but there are so few that aren't tainted by society's pervading male-centric influence. This song stands alone as an ode to pleasure for the sake of pleasure, an anthem to mutual exploration; it radiates an openness to experience that is lost in our results-oriented world of now now now. I'm in awe that someone so young captured such a beautiful sentiment in such a brilliant song.  
> <https://youtu.be/IbgwhPTkVjg>


	32. Harmony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Not a long chapter here, and it’s really just a transition piece. But there are many important advancements thrown in to set the coming scenes. The next release will be two chapters, so it’s going to take me a while to finish (I have no idea how long). Chapter 33 is medium-long and 34 is shortish (but all that could change in the editing process). But they don’t need major rewriting, so maybe that will speed things along. We’ll see :)

32—Harmony

“Four walls, a roof, a door, some windows. Just a place to run when my working day is through.”—Dixie Chicks

(Hermione) 

Settling in at Malfoy Manor was far simpler than Hermione could have ever imagined. Lucius and Severus moved her belongings without a hitch, and in less than twenty-four hours, she was set up in a bedroom that could have easily encompassed her whole flat.

That part was weird. The place was enormous, like a sprawling museum. They each could have taken their own wing and never even saw one another for months at a time. It was amazing that Lucius and Draco hadn’t gone absolutely bonkers living there by themselves for so many years.

Thankfully, Narcissa had gutted the place after the war, ridding the rooms of the acrid stench of evil that Draco claimed had clung to everything after Voldemort’s invasion. Hermione couldn’t blame the poor woman. Who would want to be terrorized by their worst memories at every turn? _Oh, that sofa, i_ _sn’t it lovely? Macnair left his bloody knife on one of the seats, but we just flipped over the cushion when the stain wouldn’t come out. And isn’t this table stunning? We eat here every night . . . right where_ _Nagini_ _devoured_ _Charity Burbage_ _like a_ _rodent_ _soufflé_ _. You can barely see the chip in the cherry._ Draco had confessed that when they returned home from the post-war trials, he couldn’t set foot in most of the rooms without becoming violently ill. After discovering her son’s unconscious body laid out in a pool of vomit one sunny Tuesday afternoon, Narcissa had informed her husband that she was redecorating the house, starting immediately. Hermione could only assume that Lucius and Narcissa were secretly grateful for any excuse to purge themselves of the past.

The house was the epitome of classic elegance, but judging by the old pictures Hermione had seen in the family albums, Mrs. Malfoy had brightened the décor considerably. The bedrooms, while still sumptuous and tailored, had been opened up to avoid that choking claustrophobia one often experiences in old homes that have become overrun by family heirlooms. Hermione chose the gold-and-cream-themed room closest to Draco; Lucius was just down the hall and around the corner. Severus took one of the rooms between Lucius’s and her own, its slate and silver walls a perfect fit for Snape’s austere tastes.

With the noble air of a discerning aristocrat, Crookshanks assumed possession of the entire house and grounds, lazing in the sun like a lad of leisure whenever the mood struck and roaming into any area, closed off or not, as if he were lord and master of all he saw. But she noticed that his mousing in the dungeons strategically steered clear of Snape’s lab. Clever kitty.

Since moving in, Hermione had discovered that successfully living with Draco, Severus, and Lucius was no different from successfully living with Harry and Ron. There was just a lot more sex and snogging at the manor than there had been in that tent. Most men had fairly simple needs on a day-to-day basis. Even Severus. They liked to be useful, especially to a witch, and they liked to be praised for their efforts. A little bit of nice went a long way. Hermione hadn’t realized the power of those few rules until she’d had a long conversation with Fleur one evening at the Weasley’s. That witch was smarter than anyone gave her credit for; her understanding of the male mind was staggering. Like a studious sponge, Hermione had absorbed Fleur’s tipsy commentary on the Weasley men, suddenly understanding why she worked so well with some wizards and not with others. Hermione used what she’d learned on her colleagues at work and found her days went much more smoothly when she stayed patient and calmly explained her reasoning to the morons in the Justice Department as if she hadn’t already done so twenty times before. The adage about catching more flies with honey was true. But Hermione had her limits—unfortunately, she wasn’t always aware of what those limits were until they’d been crossed. She didn’t know if it was the Gryffindor in her or just a keen love of logic, but some stupid had to be knocked out cold and then beaten with a smart stick until it got the message.

But none of her Slytherins needed that kind of motivation. They responded best to kindness and love, and Hermione was careful to keep the affection evenly spread between them so there would be no call for jealousy. 

At first she had relied on timetables and clock-watching, afraid that she might slip up and start shortchanging one of them. But, unsurprisingly, no one was fond of that solution, and she quickly discovered that it was completely unnecessary. Once she ditched the schedule and let Muffy lead the way, they all fell into a flow that felt perfectly natural.

Picking a partner for the night went from a fretful decision with no right answer to an intuitive game of musical beds.

When she wanted to be charmed and swept off her feet, she stayed with Lucius. He made her feel special and cared for. He was all red roses and satin sheets. The pinnacle of sensual.

If she wanted to cuddle and play, she slept with Draco. Sometimes he came to her room, and sometimes she went to his. When she was feeling particularly devious, she’d tell Draco she was going to stay with Lucius or Severus, but then she'd creep into his bed and act out his favorite sneaky nanny fantasy. 

When she'd had a hard day or felt too tense, Hermione went to Severus. He could make her forget her problems like no one else. Who could worry about upcoming trials when turned arse-up over Snape's knee? Certainly not her. And she definitely wasn’t thinking about work when he was kissing her goodnight. He’d taken to stroking her head as she fell asleep in his arms, and when it was time for her to get dressed in the morning, he refused to let up on the snogging until the last possible second, which was a rather radical change for the saturnine man.

But Severus wasn’t the only one who had changed. Draco and Lucius were both looking happier than she’d ever seen them. Granted they still sniped at one another, but that had become less severe as time passed. They recognized that their arguing hurt her, and they did their best to curtail any outbursts. She was touched by their conscientiousness.

It was hard to believe that those men—the same men who had once espoused the concept of magic is might—were the same ones who kissed her goodbye each morning and saw her off to work with a hug and a warm word. Hell, Severus was cooking for the whole house, whipping up meals that would have made Julia Child weep with ecstasy. He said it gave him a chance to think about what he was doing in the lab, but Hermione suspected he just had a hard-on for haute cuisine.

Even if he was enjoying himself in the kitchen, Hermione was still distressed by the thought of him spending so much time on his own. Lucius was usually doing business at Gringotts until just before dinner, and Hermione and Draco didn’t get home till after five.

Severus insisted that he wasn't lonely, but she always sought him out first when she returned home from work. He was usually making dinner by then, but if he got caught up in his testing, he’d be down in the dungeons, glaring at his cauldron and scratching out indecipherable notes. That concentration was legendary, but even the most engrossing brewing didn’t stop him from accepting her hugs. He'd kiss her on the forehead, and they'd exchange stories about their day. Then he’d tell her to go get ready for dinner, and she'd head upstairs to see if Lucius was home. If he was, she curled up in his lap and proceeded to have the snoggiest conversation possible, discussing their days in the gasping gaps between kisses and winding down into contented purrs of nuzzling caresses. They kept at it until Draco appeared and gave her his best basset hound impersonation in an attempt to lure her from his father’s clutches. Although there were days that called for a lengthier Lucius allotment, most of the time she took Draco upstairs to keep her company while she changed out of her work clothes. That usually turned into a distracting round of slap and tickle, but Hermione couldn’t say no to those big grey eyes. They’d cuddle in her room until it was time for dinner.

The four of them always ate together unless Lucius had a late meeting. Then they'd all do something as a group until it got dark. Sometimes they danced in the ballroom, where Hermione was surprised to find that Draco and Severus both had some training. Draco was a marvelous waltzer, flowing across the floor like silk, and he was the only one who could do moves she might see at a club. Severus was all about the tango. For a man who seemed so torpid in everyday life, he could spin her around the floor and slide her into the most provocative positions with a flair that spoke of heated passion and breathless abandon. But Lucius still held dancing’s top title; salsa, foxtrot or swing—he knew every step, and even though she stomped on his toes and banged her knee into his thigh when learning a new move, he never stopped smiling or encouraging her to try again. When they finally moved as one, synchronized at last, she could feel the stiff contours of his erection raging against her belly, applauding her success, which was inspirational to say the least.

On the weekends, they all invariably wound up naked in the pool, where Draco swam rings around them like a bloody dolphin. But as Hermione had predicted, it was Severus who turned out to be the king of Marco Polo. While Draco had the speed to catch or escape with equal swiftness, Snape controlled the game with patience and planning. She’d never seen anyone win by staying so still and quiet; he seemed to grab her out of nowhere every time, quick as an eel. And although she couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, she was fairly certain that Draco was letting Snape catch him half the time. It was the rambunctious smile that gave him away. But then again it was impossible not to grin when you felt that Kraken tagging you beneath the waves.

On the days that they were too tired for such physical pastimes, they watched movies in the drawing room, where Draco had rigged up a Muggle projector using magic. Lucius, despite his pureblood upbringing, had a love for motion pictures, which he claimed were theatre on a reel; and they slowly accumulated a small library of titles, starting with _The Godfather,_ _Gone with the Wind_ , and _Rear Window._

Seating arrangements were contentious since Hermione only had two sides, but Lucius and Severus traded off and sat next to one another. Draco would spend the night with his hand up her shirt, and her body would be deliciously lopsided by the final credits, half of her neck covered in his love bites and one of her nipples raw and distended from overuse. Movie nights always boded well for her. She never came less than twice, happily riding any hand that happened to be buried between her thighs. If Lucius was sitting next to her, she'd make lascivious suggestions about what he should be doing to Snape, which Lucius found amusing and would laughingly go along with. If Snape was sitting next to her, her requests garnered only an imperious eyebrow arch; but often she'd wind up bumping hands with Lucius when they both went for Snape's snack pack at the same time. 

At night she most often took a bath or a shower with Draco, but occasionally Severus would _give_ her a bath—usually when she was worried about something at work. He’d kneel on the floor next to the tub, sleeves rolled up, flannel in hand, calmly wiping her down and directing her into different positions so he could reach every nook and cranny. At the conclusion, he would “rinse out” her pussy with his middle finger, pumping into her so deeply that his thumb buffed her clit with each thrust. That would’ve had her on edge all by itself, but he always pushed her over by “cleaning” her arsehole with a soapy digit. Or two.

If she was really lucky, Snape would come in and bathe her _while_ she was in the tub with Draco. Rather than making Draco jealous, it seemed to entertain him to no end. His perfect white grin was diabolical, brimming with delight, and he was always rock hard when Snape left. She couldn’t let all that good cock go to waste . . . so Hermione gave him a reprise of the cleaning routine, one that involved a tongue bath and a good prostate scrubbing. Happy endings were had by all.

They hadn't really had any more foursomes since their “welcome home orgy” at the start of the summer. When Hermione spent the night with Draco, she suspected Lucius and Severus were sharing a bed, but she was never totally sure. Draco insisted they were fucking and then going back to their respective rooms, which sounded possible, but Hermione wondered why they wouldn’t just stay together all night. She didn't want to force any intimacy on them—it really wasn’t her place to comment on their longstanding relationship—but she did want to see them being more concupiscent. Especially when in her presence. Mostly they just acted like good friends. Sometimes a touch or a look would pass between them that said they meant more to each other than they let on, and she was encouraged by those moments of tenderness.

But those moments were fleeting.

A lifetime of brainwashing had instilled a fear of effusive expression, leaving them all exceedingly adept at concealment. Draco was the only one who openly displayed any range of emotions, but even he didn't volunteer anything _too_ personal. There were lots of smiles, which was of course a sign of happiness; but Hermione had to guess at the rest. Draco was getting easier to read, but Lucius was much tougher. Disdain was his all-purpose camouflage. And Severus, with his frozen countenance, could stymie even the most patient psychologist. When a smile actually broke through, it always left her giddy with triumph; it was like getting an O on the toughest NEWT imaginable.

Seeing them all so happy made her happy. And now that they were living together, she could see how much the three of them thrived on her energy. When she was distraught about something at work, they all went into repair mode, attempting to bring her back into a state of normalcy. When she was excited about something new, the energy in the house hit a new high, the three of them riding the slipstream of her bounty. And when she went through hormonal shifts, she could swear they were following the same cycle; there seemed to be a huge influx of fucking at both ovulation and menstruation, which had always been her horniest times of the month. 

None of them seemed to mind the blood, which really surprised her. At first she suspected that Lucius had adapted to the idea of period sex after being with Narcissa for so long and that it was his acceptance that had nudged the other two into compliance. But that theory lasted all of one and a half months. The whole lot of them were practically fucking her through the mattress . . . and the tub . . . and the wall . . . and the floor. She even caught Draco humping her arse in the lift as if he couldn’t bear to wait until they got home. When she gave him a disbelieving look, he grinned and whispered something about needing Nanny’s slip-slidey pussy. His growly passion had made her realize that no man fucked with that degree of animalistic desire unless he really meant it, so after that, she shrugged off her doubts and just went along for the ride. If they didn’t mind, then neither did she.

But hormonal sex was just one of the many perks of cohabitation. The increased time together provided so many new opportunities for little displays of affection. Draco was always holding her hand and giving her sweet kisses throughout the day, but once she took up residence at the manor, she saw how much Lucius and Severus wanted those things too. 

In their own way.  

Lucius liked to touch her just as much as Draco did, but he was less cuddly and more hedonistic in his approach.

Severus almost never touched her first. But he also never discouraged her advances. In the mornings, she would hug him goodbye, and he would kiss her on the head; but he never made the first move. And he never asked her to share his bed—it was always her suggestion. That was admittedly strange, but what was even stranger was that, when they were alone, he would waver between stony silences of  deep thought and surprise onslaughts of nurturing care. She got the feeling he was testing her, making sure she wasn't going to push him away, but that was the furthest thing from her mind.

She couldn’t get enough of him. Or Lucius. Or Draco.

In an effort to encourage more honesty and openness from her emotionally gun-shy roommates, Hermione went out of her way to assure each of them—on a daily basis—that she adored spending time with them. Draco would return her sentiments without hesitation, while the more reserved Lucius would smile and kiss her, occasionally murmuring a revealing reply. Snape stayed quiet, but he would rub her back and stroke her head, which said quite a lot.

Things were going so smoothly at the Manor that it was a shock to return to the real world, where witches gave her the stink eye for holding hands with Draco, where she had to fight the administration for the money to do her job, where abused creatures were batted around by the system as if they didn't matter.

Having such an abundance of good in her life made her all the more desperate to help those in need. She had so much. Couldn't she share her good fortune? If she just worked a little harder, if she just argued a little longer, if she just scrounged up a few more galleons. The possibilities were all right there, on the tips of her fingers, but always beyond her grasp.

While she was annoyed by the bureaucratic tribulations foisted on the creatures she was tasked with defending, she was flat out panicked about revealing her new living arrangements to her closest friends. She’d yet to tell Harry and Ron of her move, and just thinking about the likely fallout made her intestines twist up like a demonic pretzel.

She had gotten up the nerve to reveal the truth to only one person so far.

James.

She had spilled her secrets to him in a hurried whisper one Saturday afternoon after finishing The Tale of Benjamin Bunny and Peter Rabbit—that damn switching bit at the end got her thinking about Severus, which had inspired her to practice her confession on the least judgmental person she knew. It felt so good to get it off her chest, and by all appearances her godson seemed to take the news quite well.

Now if only Harry and Ron could be so easily swayed.

Harry was on speaking terms with Draco, but she didn't think their tenuous relationship could withstand the knowledge that Draco was filling her with Malfoy milkshakes three nights a week. That sounded like a tidbit of information he might get hung up on.

She knew the truth would come out sooner or later, but for the moment, she was opting for later, her Gryffindor bravery faltering under the prospect of alienating her friends. If she could just come up with a nice way of phrasing it, maybe she could soften the blow. Something involving “house unity” perhaps.

She didn't even want to consider what would happen if they couldn't accept her new love life. It might be the row to end all rows. Hermione wouldn't be told whom she could and couldn't see. It was her life, and she'd finally found something that made sense; she couldn't let that go . . . even if it only made sense to her.

Separation was not an option. 

She just hoped that was as true for her friends as it was for her lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harmony--Pleasing combination of tones played together.
> 
> "A Home"--By the Dixie Chicks. Written by Maia Sharp and Randy Sharp. Released in 2003. Although this song is sad and more about lost love, I thought the lyrics were too perfect to pass up. (Plus a lot of the lyrics I pick aren't entire-song appropriate. I'm selective like that.) <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=sff-fT2J_GU>
> 
> Julia Child is the author of several famous cookbooks and was the star of her own cooking show in the late 60's
> 
> Beatrix Potter wrote The Tale of Benjamin Bunny and Peter Rabbit and I'm sure that's got some copyrights on it, so I feel I should mention that I don't own it.


	33. Staff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey everyone. The good news is that these chapters didn't need overhauling so I got them done relatively quickly. The bad news is that I'm super sick and I have no idea what's wrong with me, so I don't know how long it's going to take me to work on the coming chapters (I think the next group release is four chapters long). Hopefully I'm going to the doctor today and they'll figure out what's wrong, but I'm pretty out of it (and typing this in a moment of lucidity). I'll probably get 34 up tomorrow morning (assuming I'm functional), but I don't want to make the break between these two chapters any longer than I have to.  
> I hope this is as coherent as my brain thinks it is.

33—Staff

“Grind up on it, girl. Show him how you ride it.”—Beyoncé

(Lucius) 

Lucius glanced over at Snape, who was blinking in and out of sleep, his book on the bed next to him, held open with one hand but essentially forgotten. Hermione must have decided to bunk with Draco that night. Lucius was only slightly jealous. The good thing about having both Snape and Hermione at the manor was that he was less likely to wind up in bed alone, his mind racing like a Nimbus on nitrous. His thoughts became far too morbid when left to his own devices. Often Severus just came to sit with him, but Lucius was fine with that. Severus could read while Lucius relaxed. They fit well together.

But he did miss the way Hermione stroked his hand as he fell asleep. Snape was more cock stroker than hand stroker. Lucius wasn’t complaining—but the two were worlds apart.

“Severus?”

Snape’s right eyebrow rose to help pry open his eyelid, and he peered at Lucius like a haughty pirate. “What?”

“Are you jealous when Hermione isn’t with you at night?”

Closing his eye, Snape simply said, “No.”

"Don't you think Draco gets her more than we do?"

“No.”

“How can you say that? He’s constantly touching her.”

“So are you.”

Lucius didn’t think he touched her constantly—just when she looked inviting. But to be fair, that _was_ most of the time. “She likes it.”

Snape didn’t stir. He might have fallen asleep again.

“I want her to know how much I like having her around,” he said as if Severus had asked for clarification.

No response.

“Why don’t you touch her more? She’s going to think you don’t want her.”

“She knows how much I want her,” Severus replied quietly. “I don’t need to grope her to prove it.”

“I think you’re scared of her,” Lucius shot back, just to get a rise out of the old prickle puss.

Severus opened both eyes to glare at him. “What an absurd observation. That girl wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why the hell would I be scared of her?”

Lucius hadn’t expected such a biting reply. He’d hit a nerve without meaning to. “How should I know? Maybe you don’t like how attached you’re getting. Fear of commitment.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Says the man I’ve been with for over thirty years.”

He had him there. “Then what is it? If you’re so comfortable with commitment, then what’s holding you back?”

“Who said anything’s holding me back? How do you come up with this nonsense?”

Lucius could see the fuming exasperation blooming in Snape's face, but rather than scaring him off, it merely piqued his interest. “Is it because she’s so young? Do you think she’s going to suddenly realize how old we are and leave us for Draco?”

"Have you learned nothing of her motivations?” Snape said, sneering derisively. “I thought you were more perceptive than this, Lucius.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Now _he_ was getting defensive. _Just because I can’t go traipsing through her head doesn’t mean I’m not perceptive._

“She gets off on the age difference. She prefers experience and the stability that comes from an increase in years.”

"Then why in the hell is she so drawn to Draco?”

Snape sighed. “She’s complicated. She has more sides than just randy lover and submissive sex queen.”

Well of course she was more than that. How shallow did Snape think he was? Severus didn’t honestly think that was all he saw in her, did he? Lucius shelved that tirade to continue his original argument. “Don’t you think it’s a little disturbing how much she mothers him? He’s like a damn toddler when she’s around.”

Severus arched one pointed black brow and gave Lucius a acerbic look. “Gee, I wonder why.”

Lucius didn’t like Snape the riddler. “What are you getting at?”

Snape's venomous countenance melted to a grimace of pity. “Draco lost his only means of unconditional love when Narcissa died. Hermione is just giving him what he needs most.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying! Don’t you find that a bit . . . unsettling?”

“No. I think it’s understandable. And before you start picking up any stones, you might want to board up your own glass house.”

Lucius sat tall, fixing him in an icy stare. “If you have something to say, Snape, come out and say it.”

Severus didn’t react, he just stared back with blank indifference. “You’re using her to fill in for Narcissa too.”

“I am not!”

“Then why are you dressing her up in things that Narcissa would have worn? Why are you draping her in jewels when you fuck? Why are you treating her like your wife?”

“How dare you!”

“I’m not condemning your behavior,” Severus said gently. “I’m just curious.”

“For your information, I am not trying to turn her into Narcissa. Hermione and I have already discussed this. If I wanted a clone of Narcissa, I wouldn’t have picked Granger. She’s about as far from Narcissa as you can get. I buy Hermione presents and fuck her in jewels because I enjoy it. Don’t pretend she doesn't look bloody gorgeous dripping in diamonds and lace. And if I’m treating her like my wife, maybe that’s because I miss having a wife!” His voice cracked on the last word, and he clenched his jaw in fury that Snape had goaded him so expertly.

“Lucius,” Severus said, reaching beneath the blanket and brushing his bare leg with the backs of his fingers. “I wasn’t judging you. I know this has been as strange for you as it’s been for me.”

“What about you?” Lucius countered, not quite believing there hadn’t been a purposeful barb in his interrogation. “You go around calling her little girl and treating her like a child. Your relationship is just as fucked up as Draco’s or mine.”

Severus shrugged in agreement. “I never claimed it wasn’t. I’m using her to get what I need too.”

“Which is?”

Severus looked away, a thoughtful dent bisecting his brow. Finally he sighed and answered, “I want to take care of her.”

Lucius was speechless. Snape? Care?

“She thrives on the submission, just as I do on the domination. But she needs the care to be really happy. I want to give it to her. And I know you do too. That’s why she loves the way you fuck her. It’s not just the pleasure; it’s the intimacy. We both take care of her  . . . but in very different ways.”

Lucius was staggered by how much thought Snape had put into their situation. “If you want to take care of her, then why don’t you act like it? I’ve never seen you make the first move.”

Snape nodded, his eyes focused on the dark fireplace, but he provided no answer.

Lucius suddenly had a flash of insight. “You’re scared of her rejection, aren’t you?”

Snape’s brow furrowed, and Lucius could see he was turning that over in his mind.

“That’s why you were so comfortable with Narcissa. There was no rejection to be had—she was already mine.” Lucius put his hand over Snape’s fingers, which had gone still against his leg. “You know Hermione would sooner cut off her wand hand than hurt you—or any of us for that matter.”

Snape’s jaw bulged as his teeth clenched. 

Lucius hadn’t seen that look in a long time. Not since their school days. “Oh. You already know. That’s what’s scaring you—that she’ll be taken away . . . like Lily.”

“No,” Snape whispered and pulled back, clasping his hands together in his lap.

“Then what is it?” Mention of Lily always put a damper on the conversation. Lucius would be lucky to get an answer out of him.

After a protracted silence, Snape spoke, but his eyes remained fixed on the far wall. “Do you feel guilty about Hermione replacing Narcissa?”

Lucius had been avoiding such thoughts in favor of domestic bliss. “Occasionally.” He put two and two together. “Is that what’s bothering you? You feel guilty?”

Snape didn’t look at him, but he nodded once.

Lucius could sympathize. “I often wonder what Narcissa would think of this arrangement. I wonder if she’d forgive me for caring about another witch the way I did about her.”

“Have you come to any conclusions?”

"Oh, I don't have to guess. We discussed what we would do if one of us died. Of course this was when we were young and had Draco to think of. But she told me if something happened to her, and I survived, that she wanted me to marry again.” He smiled softly, remembering how she’d looked in her silk peignoir, her hair glowing in the moonlight that fell across the bed. “She said she knew I needed someone to hold at night and that she didn’t want me to be miserable.”

“Narcissa really said that?”

Lucius nodded. “I think she wanted—“

 _Knock_ _knock_ _knock_ _._

Both sets of eyes flew to the door.

“Who is it?” Lucius called out.

“Hermione Jean Granger.”

They both snickered at her answer. “Come in, Hermione Jean Granger.”

Hermione slid through the door in her light pink shortie pajamas, her hair pulled back in a braid. She looked lovely, and Lucius smiled at the sight of her. She stopped in her tracks when she saw them in the bed together, a lecherous grin spreading over her face.

“Have I interrupted something?” she asked hopefully.

“Nothing we can’t discuss later. What is it, princess? Do you need something?”

Severus rolled toward the edge of the bed. “I’ll leave you two alone.” 

“NO!” Hermione blurted out.

Snape stopped and stared at her for a second then sat back. 

Obviously pleased with the setting, Hermione climbed up the foot of the bed and crawled into the narrow space between them. “I was just coming to tell Lucius that I missed being with everybody at once. But you’re already here.”

Snape lifted the comforter so she could get under the sheets with them.

Hermione grinned and settled in, sliding her hand over Lucius’s hip. “Are you naked?”

“Don’t I always sleep in the nude?”

Hermione turned to Snape, but when she found he had on pajama bottoms, her smile faltered. “You should sleep starkers too. I want to play with you.”

Snape smirked. “I don’t play, Miss Granger.”

“Yes, you do.” She pulled her cotton top over her head so her tits leapt free. “We just played Professor Snape’s Dirty Detention the other night.”

Snape’s black eyes slid over her breasts. “Touché.”

Lucius grinned at Severus. “Did Professor Snape leave your bottom all bruised like he did last time? Let me see.”

Hermione squealed with laughter as Lucius attempted to pull down her shorts under the covers. “Stop tickling me! I’ll show you! I’ll show you!”

Lucius turned down the bedding so he could see. “Roll over, love. Get that bum up in the air.”

Hermione flipped onto her stomach and arched her back, wiggling about as if she had nettles in her knickers. 

Snickering at her giggly grin, Lucius peeled her little cotton shorts over her hips to reveal her backside, which was currently a half-healed shade of dusty pink. His hand slid over the site of their “play,” and she sighed contentedly.

“This is lovely, princess. Did you tell Severus thank you?”

“I screamed it.”

Severus smiled, and a soft look crossed his usually stoic features. “Would you like to show Lucius what a good girl you can be?”

She squirmed and lifted her arse higher. “Yes, sir.”

“Get those shorts off her.” Severus said, nodding at her hips. “And check to see how wet she is.”

 _Mm! A bedtime_ _romp_ _. My favorite._ Lucius swiftly removed her pajamas and tossed them aside. As he skimmed his hand up her soft inner thigh, she spread her legs—a wanton invitation if ever there was one. He immediately knew she wasn’t wet. When she got excited, her outer lips naturally parted, offering a glimpse of her gleaming interior petals. For the moment, her lips were sadly sealed together and looking dejectedly deflated. He held her open to double check.

“She’s not wet. Just normal female damp.”

Severus turned on his side and ran his hand along her back until he was skiing over the hill of her bum. Then he patted her cheek so the ripe flesh wobbled enticingly. “Would you like to give her the first round?”

Lucius was transfixed by the hypnotic riffle of her backside. He stroked her other cheek and then gave it a tap to keep the jelly jiggling. “Hmmmm. I haven’t spanked this little bottom in quite some time. Let’s reminisce.”

If Severus wanted to orchestrate some devious game for them to play that evening, Lucius was all in. It was always nice to switch things up; variety was the spice of life after all. And Hermione loved a spanking like no witch he’d ever met before. _You_ _gotta_ _give the people what they want_. With only one little tap as warning, he brought his palm down with a sharp smack.

A pink handprint appeared on her right buttock—his signature as it were, and he slapped the other side to make it a matching set. Stretched out on her belly as she was, her bum took on a life of its own, moving in ways that would have been impossible if she were bent over. The resulting quiver that rippled across her skin was absolutely stunning. And the color— _c’est_ _manifique_. He gave her a slappy round of fifty, which had her writhing and whimpering in no time flat, her hips bucking toward the bed as if she were shagging the sheets.

Severus signaled him to stop then used the back of one hand to test the heat. “Are you wet now, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I like getting my naughty bottom spanked.”

Lucius silently laughed at her practiced response.

“That’s right,” Severus purred, tracing her crevice with the tips of his fingers. “What else do you like?”

“Having my naughty bottom filled, sir.”

Snape nodded at Lucius to grab a cheek, and they both spread her wide, exposing her brown backdoor to the light. The panting and grinding were immediate; she went from needy want to blistering desire in an instant.

"Tell Lucius what you have to do when you've been a bad girl."

“Oh God,” she muttered, clearly not keen on sharing the logistics of her discipline. But in true Gryffindor fashion she did what she had to get the job done. Hiding her face, she blurted out, “When I’m a bad girl, I have to sit on my naughty stool in the corner.”

“And tell him what that means,” Snape prompted, using his other hand to tease the tiny hairs surrounding her pucker.

“I don’t want to, sir. It’s too embarrassing.”

“Lucius won’t make fun of you. It’ll turn him on. You want to make him hard, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then tell him.”

She turned her head toward Lucius but kept her face veiled by the pillow sham. “Severus spanks me till I’m sore then I have to sit on the naughty stool in the corner. But he attached two . . . cocks to the seat.” 

Lucius gave Snape an impressed look. Kinky devil.

Severus shook his head. “The smaller one isn’t a dildo, it’s just a rather long plug.”

“I have to get it wet with my mouth first,” she muttered. “The purple one goes in my pussy. I have to sit down all the way and stay there until Severus says I can get up.”

“And what happens if you don’t sit still or if you come in the corner?” Snape prompted.

She buried her face deeper in the sheets. “I get six with the cane.”

“And how many times have you come on the naughty stool?”

“Mmmmphhumm.”

“Take your face out of the pillow and answer me clearly.” 

She lifted her head but didn't look at them. “Every time.”

Lucius couldn’t help laughing at that. “Your poor little bottom,” he crooned and gave her warm skin a reassuring pat. “Do you approve of Snape’s discipline?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, sounding quite pleased with herself.

Severus rubbed her back. “Now, it’s my turn to spank you. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I think you’d better straddle Lucius and get him deep inside so I can start.”

Her head jerked around, and she stared at Snape then with a braided whip in the opposite direction, she looked at Lucius, her eyes wandering down to his semi-erect prick. “He’s not hard enough yet, sir.”

“Then get him there.”

“But . . . I came here to see you two touch each other.”

Lucius grinned. She was a forward little thing—and clever. No doubt she’d purposely waited until she thought they were going at it before knocking on his door. Severus smirked at him behind her back.

"I’ll get Lucius hard for you, _if_ you take the big pink plug during your spank-fucking.”

Her eyes went wide, but not in fear. "Yes, sir. I agree.”

Snape flashed him a wicked grin as he sat up. Pulling his wand from the pillow case, he silently Summoned the plug from his room. The door flew open, and Lucius saw a whizzing blur of pink speed past.

Snape caught it in one hand and presented it to her like a present. “Lucius, would you be so kind as to pass the lube?”

Quick as a flash, Lucius rolled over and rummaged through the night stand in search of the familiar aqua tube. When he found it, he set it down next to her and got a peek at the plug from over her shoulder. He knew what Snape was doing—getting her used to the idea of double penetration without scaring her. And he’d picked a brilliant tool for the campaign. The plug was not the usual tapered shape; it was a small silicone penis, maybe four or five inches long and just over an inch wide. The base was flared like a plug and had a nice ring to help pull it out. It would be like training wheels for her first buggering.

“Trade places with me,” Severus told her. “I want you to lube up that plug and get it in while I’m . . . _preparing_ Lucius.”

“Yes, sir,” she breathed out in a rush.

They rolled about, swapping places, and Severus sank down on his side, eye level with Lucius’s dick. Smoothing his palm up Lucius’s thigh, Severus snaked his arm over his hip in a familiar embrace. A strong hand grabbed his arse, pulling him in, and that wicked mouth engulfed him with practiced finesse, the brewing calluses on Snape’s fingers making his skin sing with gooseflesh. Just like when they were younger.  

Hermione’s eyes went wide, and without blinking or looking at what she was doing, she opened the lube and started wanking the silicone prick in her hand. When it was shiny and slick, she leaned onto her side and rested her head next to Lucius’s. Lucius watched her face as she greased her arse. He loved that backdraft of excitement that flared through those brown eyes whenever her senses overwhelmed her logic. _Boom-whoosh!_ In a split second she could be completely immolated by lust. And that was a majestic sight to behold.

Lucius didn’t know what was turning him on more, Snape’s superlative sucking, or watching Hermione’s pupils blow out like black balloons as she impaled herself with the plug. Her eyelids fluttered, and she bit her lower lip, concentrating hard and presenting a tableau of abject bliss.

Snape’s agile tongue flickered into his urethra, and Lucius grunted, grabbing his greasy head and urging him to go back to following his length. Tricky bastard. Severus knew very well what that did to him. There was fucking to be done, and he couldn’t risk coming in Snape’s mouth before they’d even begun.

Hermione must have conquered the bulbed head, because she suddenly relaxed and heaved out an enormous sigh. Her free hand wandered down, and Lucius smiled as the juicy sounds of cliteration filled the room. Snape had taught her well. Or had she discovered that trick all on her own? He’d never asked her how far she’d pushed the anal play before dating them.

“How’s your bum feeling, princess?”

She smiled drunkenly, her eyes never leaving Snape’s bobbing head. “Very full, sir.”

“Have you got it in yet?”

“Almost. Maybe another inch to go.”

“I hope you’re nice and wet for me so I can fuck that pretty pussy.”

Her inhale hitched. “I am, sir. So wet.”

Snape ducked his head and pulled back so Lucius’s erection popped from his mouth and sprang back up with enough force to flick saliva all over Malfoy’s abdomen. Ragged exhales gusted up and down the back of his glistening dick, and Severus ran his tongue along the underside as if he’d missed a spot. “Lucius is ready for you, Miss Granger. Is that plug in all the way?”

“Yes, sir.”

Severus sat up. “Lucius, get in the middle so I can use my right hand on her.”

Lucius slid over, and Snape took the edge of the bed. Hermione didn't wait for an invitation; she was climbing up and straddling him before he was even settled. _Somebody's raring to go_ , he thought with a smile. Gods he loved her enthusiasm. And she could ride him like a blue-ribbon champion. Such poise. Such timing. Such thighs. It was all in the thighs.

“I’ll let you get him in first,” Severus told her. “Go slowly. Things are going to feel extremely tight. Lucius is far thicker than your purple dildo.”

Hermione nodded and reached down to aim Lucius towards heaven. There was a brief moment of sloshy swishing as she lubed him in a tidal wave of satin, but then she eased him into her opening and Lucius could do nothing but hiss like a viper. She'd gone from deliciously snug to jaw-clenchingly cramped, and he could see by the whites of her eyes that she'd been caught off guard by the stretch. 

Lucius gripped her hip to hold her steady. “That’s it, love. Breathe.”

Gasping, she sank down a little further, and her eyelids shuddered to slits. Lower, circling her hips, she loosened herself up. “Unnnnh.”

Severus knelt at her side and rubbed her back. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, her head lolling as if she were aboard a ship on choppy waters. 

“We’re right here,” Lucius murmured. “Just breathe.”

Hermione met his eye and nodded again. Slowly, she got ahold of her respiration and went still. Lucius stayed still too. She might pop off his knob if he made any sudden movements.

“Good girl,” Severus crooned. “Does that feel good?”

She nodded, her brown eyes glassy with arousal.

“Can’t you talk?” Severus murmured, leaning down to kiss her temple.

Lucius knew what would get her talking. He found her clit with his index finger and gently stroked the stiff bud.

“Unnnnnh!” Her hips rocked, driving him deeper with each undulation. “Thank you, sir!”

Severus smirked and kept rubbing her back. “There’s my girl. Tell Lucius how much you appreciate him letting you use his cock.”

“Thank you for fucking me, sir,” she rattled off, her head pitching back to follow her rolling eyes.

“You’re welcome,” Malfoy grunted. “Just a bit lower and you’ll have it all.”

Hermione sank down and groaned; the sound must have welled up from the depths of her pussy, because he felt every oscillation vibrating along his shaft.

“Fuck!” Lucius growled, grinding his teeth as her buzzing sheath targeted his glans.

Severus’s eyes flashed to his. “Do I need to ask if you’re all right too?”

“She’s so fucking tight,” Lucius hissed. “I’m not going to make it.”

Hermione rode him faster, working him even deeper. When she finally sank to the hilt, he tried to catch his breath, but she started to grind, and he was left muttering under his breath like a lunatic.

Snape patted her bum a few times. “Ready for your spanking, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered. “Please.”

Snape knew to strike while the iron was hot _. Smack!_

Her pussy clenched, and Lucius moaned in tandem with her, albeit for entirely different reasons.

 _Smack!_

She mashed her clit into his pelvis as if trying to smother the poor nubbin. Lucius would have rubbed it for her, but she was pressed to him so tightly he couldn’t fit a finger between them.

 _Smack!_

Each hit reverberated through her body, rattling his shaft like an aftershock. She whipped her hips, beating his cock around her soft walls, banging her cervix with a rough kiss each time she slammed down. The spanking paused, but the ride continued. Snape must have been pushing the plug back inside her, because Lucius felt the hard ridge sliding along the back of his dick.

“Keep that in, little girl.” _Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!_

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she continued sheerly by feel. It looked as if she were high. Lucius reached up and cupped her cheek, and she nuzzled his hand like a cat. Her jaw dropped open, exposing her pink tongue, which glittered with hungry shine. He slid in his thumb, and she sucked greedily. Her appreciative moan traveled down the digit and echoed in his palm.

The sounds of Snape's spanking blended with the sodden symphony between her legs—flesh on flesh, slapping heat to a driving beat.

“All right,” Severus murmured. “You may come whenever you like.” _Smack!_ “Show us how much you love having every hole stuffed full.” _Smack!_ “Your bottom’s getting awfully red.” _Smack!_ “You’d better come soon, or you won’t be able to sit tomorrow.” _Smack!_ “And don’t think for a second that that will keep you off your naughty stool.” _Smack!_ “I know you’re close, little girl.” _Smack!_ “Come for me right now, or I’m going to use the riding crop on your sweet little clit again.”

“Unnnnnnh!” She bucked wildly, her pussy clamping around him so hard Lucius almost bit a hole through his tongue.

 _Smack! Smack! Smack!_ The spanking accelerated, urging her faster like a horse at the track. She shouted even louder as her inner muscles convulsed. He’d never seen her come so hard. She looked deranged. But happy. Was this what she needed from Snape? Was this what she needed from him? She’d told him repeatedly that she loved what they did together, but he’d never left her looking as though she’d lost her marbles. Or maybe he did. He couldn’t really see her face when he was licking her pussy.

Severus jiggled the plug again, and Lucius came with a groan, spilling himself inside her, coating her walls with his seed. The pulsing in his pelvis took his breath away. Every thrust milked a fresh stream from the base of his balls. The word satisfying didn't even begin to describe what he was feeling. The relief of release was awe-inspiring. Inspirational.

She collapsed down on top of him as her body ran out of steam. Lucius wrapped his arms around her and held her close, waiting for his dick to deflate so he could pull out without tearing off his glans. That plug made everything wonderfully intense, but it also made exit impossible.

Severus bent down and pressed his lips to the side of her face. “Good girl. Where would you like my seed tonight? In your mouth? On your red backside? In your pussy?”

She turned her head. “I can have it anywhere?”

He smirked. “That’s what good girls get.”

“Can you take out my plug and come in my bum?”

Severus’s gaze shot to Lucius, and Lucius widened his eyes in response. _What are you waiting for?_

“Do you mean with my cock _in_ your bum or you just want me to aim for the hole?”

“I don’t think I can fit your cock in there. I just meant mostly in the hole.”

Severus chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Yes, I can do that. Are you ready right now?”

“Yes, sir,” she said happily and arched her back, offering him easy access.

Severus lowered the front his black pajamas and grabbed hold of his cock, which was already rock hard, so Lucius surmised he’d enjoyed the spanking as much as she had. Kneeling behind her, Snape began to determinedly wank, and as he did so, he gave Lucius a conspiratorial look then nodded at her bum. Lucius knew what he meant—the moment of truth was drawing nigh. Their devious little angel was dying for a good buggering.

Stroking her head, Lucius watched Snape’s face over her shoulder. The line between his brow deepened as he concentrated on his task. That was his usual fucking face. Pain. Pleasure. Trying to come. Trying not to come. It all looked the same on Snape. Sexy.

"Bear down," Severus grunted, and a moment later the plug was pulled free.

Lucius lifted his head to watch. Snape put his leaking tip right up to her cleft and, with a low growl, pumped his entire load into her arse. Depending on how fast her sphincter winked closed, he probably got a good deal of it inside her.

With a final grunt, Snape finished himself off and wiped the remains in her crack. Lucius smiled and dropped his head back to the bed. He’d have to commit that image to his permanent memory files. He didn’t know who was turning him on more—Hermione or Severus.

Snape leaned down and kissed her lower back. “All right, young lady. You’re all filled up. Don’t push that out. I’ll clean you in the morning.”

Hermione smiled sleepily and rested her head on Lucius’s shoulder. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” Severus said softly, and Lucius was amazed by how kind he sounded.

“You too, Lucius,” Hermione whispered. “I love your cock. And I love the way you know what I want.”

Gods, she was so fucking sweet. He kissed the top of her head to sate his sugar cravings. “You’re beautiful when you come, princess. But you look awfully tired now. Are you ready to go to sleep?”

“With both of you?” she suggested.

Snape nodded at him over her shoulder.

“Of course, love,” Lucius agreed. “Anything you want.”

“I want Draco here too. I feel bad that we did this without him. He’ll be sad if he finds out.”

Before Lucius could answer, Severus spoke, “You're right, Draco would be sad. We won’t mention what happened tonight. Why don’t you go to his room and get him, and we'll clean up.”

Hermione gently wiggled Lucius out of her pussy and placed a groggy peck on his lips. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

She slid off the bed and padded out the door—a bit more bowlegged than when she’d arrived.

As soon as she disappeared, Lucius gave Snape a reproachful glare. “How the hell are we all going to sleep together? I am _not_ spooning my son all night.”

Snape cleaned off the plug with a spell and sent it back to his room. “Hermione has some idea, I’m sure. She’s not going to make you spoon Draco. And would you stop acting as if your son is the enemy. Without him, this might all fall apart. At least do it for her.”

Lucius considered that. He _did_ want her to be happy, and it wasn't as if he’d never let Draco sleep in his bed before. The boy had gone through some kind of “monsters in the wardrobe” phase when he was four, and it had taken them months to get him back in his own bed. Sighing deeply, Lucius nodded. “Very well.”

“And clean yourself off,” Severus said, nodding at his crotch. “It smells like a pussy pool party in here.”

Lucius smirked. “I like it.”

“So do I, but I don’t want Draco to feel left out either.”

Lucius found his wand and charmed his prick clean. “Better?”

Severus sank down on his side and aligned their hips so they were sealed together from chest to bollocks. The warmth of his genitals was matched only by the heat in his gaze. He slid his hand into Lucius’s hair and brushed his lips over his mouth. “Better,” he confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Staff—Made up of five horizontal parallel lines and the spaces between them on which musical notation is written. (But obviously it's a play on definitions, and I meant the more phallic of the two.)
> 
> "Countdown" by Beyoncé. Written by Knowles, Terius Nash, Shea Taylor, Ester Dean, Cainon Lamb, Julie Frost, Michael Bivins, Nathan Morris and Wanya Morris. Released in 2011.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2XY3AvVgDns>


	34. Arrangement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the get wells. Doctor doesn't know what's wrong yet, but at least she gave me something for the nausea. Hopefully I'll be able to eat more today. I promise I'm not pushing myself to get the chapters done; they're just the only thing that give me any sense of accomplishment right now.  
> Here's a short chapter to round out the set. Hope you enjoy.

34—Arrangement

“We belong, we belong, we belong together.”—Pat Benatar

(Draco) 

Draco’s ears perked, magnifying the click of the doorknob. Hermione’s light footsteps could just barely be heard on the plush carpet. Closing his eyes, he pretended to be asleep so she’d “wake” him properly.

The bed shifted under her weight, and her hand alighted on his shoulder, soft as a sparrow. A wisp of breath warmed his ear moments before she pressed a gentle kiss to his neck, causing a field of gooseflesh to sprout up the length of his spine. “No more spankings, Nanny Granger,” he muttered in a groggy voice. “I’m being a good boy.”

Her breathy laugh burst over his temple. “Ha ha,” she quipped, pecking his cheek. “Want to come sleep in the big bed with us?”

Draco turned his head to look at her, but it was hard to see in the dark. “Us?”

“Mm-hmm. I want all of you to stay with me tonight. That way no one will be alone. I’ve already talked Lucius and Severus into it. They’re waiting for us in Lucius’s bed.”

Well that was a logical locale. Lucius’s bed could accommodate half a dozen with no trouble. “How are you going to sleep with all of us at once? Lengthwise?”

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” she said enigmatically. “Come on. I’m cold. I need you to get me warm.”

Draco shivered as she abruptly turned down his sheets. It wasn’t particularly chilly, but the sudden abundance of cool air on his skin was bracing. She grabbed his hand and tugged him until he was sitting.

“Okay, okay,” Draco said, spinning around and getting his feet on the floor. “You don’t have to drag me. You know I’ll come willingly.”

She purred a cock-filling, “Mmmmm,” in his ear and yanked him to stand in a surprising display of strength. “Good boy,” she cooed. “Let’s go.”

Stumbling though the door in her wake, Draco gripped her hand to keep himself vertical. Out in the hall, he was pleased to discover she was nude. He wished there was more light so he could see better.

They tiptoed down the hall and around the corner. He didn’t know why she was sneaking about like a cat burglar, but he couldn’t help following her lead. When they got to the master bedroom, the candles temporarily blinded him, but as his eyes adjusted, he saw Lucius and Snape already under the covers, looking pleasantly drained. He wondered who had been fucking whom.

Hermione released his hand and climbed up the foot of the bed, her arse waggling at him like a shiny red beacon. That was new. Fresh. He recognized Snape’s handiwork when he saw it. “Have you been playing with Professor Snape again, you dirty girl?”

Hermione leered at him over her shoulder and arched her back so he could see everything. “Yep. How’s it look?”

Draco ran his fingers over the curve of her pink cheek. “Pretty.”

“Thanks,” she said with snort. “Now take off your pajamas and get in next to me. It’s bedtime and you know I can’t sleep without your cock pressed against me.”

Draco couldn’t get out of his pajamas fast enough. He clamored in after her, and she held up the covers for him to climb under. He didn’t think his father was going to be too happy about being next to Snape rather than Hermione, but she was already one step ahead of him.

Hermione curled up on her right side and reached over Snape to motion at Lucius. “Okay, now you come closer and put your arm around Severus so I can touch you.”

Both blond eyebrows popped high. It wasn’t every day Lucius was ordered about in his own bed. Obviously amused by the turn of events—or perhaps just curious where they might lead—Lucius went along with her direction and rolled to his side, slinging his arm around Snape’s waist and brushing the backs of his fingers over her ribcage.

Hermione ran her hand down Lucius’s pale bicep and nuzzled Snape’s chest. Severus’s face flickered with bemusement. He’d somehow become the meat in a snuggling sandwich. Draco was on the verge of riotous laughter, but then he realized Hermione had run out of available arms, and he would be left in the cold.

“Okay, Draco, now you get behind me and hold me like you usually do.”

Hmm. He _would_ be getting the full benefit of her arse, and spooning _was_ his preferred sleeping position.

Rolling into place, Draco bellied up to her back. Snape’s arm was in his way, but Severus dropped it flat and waved him closer. After adjusting Hermione’s pillow, Draco settled in behind her, pressing his hips to her buttocks and nestling his cock between her cheeks.

“Your bum is baking me alive,” he teased.

Hermione snickered. “It’s a weenie roast. I told you I’d get you warm.”

“Indeed.”

“Are you comfortable back there?” she asked.

Draco ground his pelvis into her cushioned backside. “Very.”

“I need your hand on my chest.”

Draco grinned and snaked his hand around to palm her breast. He could feel the thump of her heart front to back.

“All right,” Hermione said, heaving out a great sigh. “Is everyone comfortable?”

They all muttered in the affirmative.

“Lucius, will you hold my hand?” She made it sound voluntary, but they all knew it was a done deal.

“That’s better. Okay, somebody turn out the lights. I’m bloody tired.”

“I’ve got it,” Severus said nonchalantly and waved his hand, wandlessly snuffing all the candles at once.

“Show off,” Lucius muttered.

Hermione patted his chest. “Very handy.”

Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Despite all the competition in the bed, he felt strangely relaxed. It was almost as if he’d taken a Tranquility Elixir.

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, popping up so her braid clocked him in the nose. “Hold on. I need the loo.”

Giving her space to move around, Draco helped her up and guided her to the foot of the bed. There was a soft thump as her feet hit the floor then the whisper of her footsteps padding to the bathroom.

They all waited for her in companionable silence. The sound of tinkling wee floated through the door, and Draco laughed to himself, wondering if the cold seat was cutting any of the remaining spanking heat. The toilet flushed, and the sink started. Why couldn’t she just use a damn charm to clean her hands?

The door creaked on its hinges, and she crept back across the room, her inky silhouette dancing to the bed fast as a Snitch. She climbed up, and Severus helped Draco get her back into her sleeping slot.

She wiggled and writhed, adjusting her body and theirs until everything was snug and warm. Draco sank his fingers into her soft breast and buried his nose in her hair, and his body went slack with satisfaction.

“Oh!” she spouted again, lifting up so Draco’s head flopped into the empty dent in her pillow.

“What is it now?” Snape asked, his voice gruff with exhaustion.

“I forgot to kiss everyone goodnight,” she explained.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Severus intoned as she leaned over him to reach Lucius.

“Night, Lucius,” Hermione whispered.

Draco couldn’t quite see what she was doing, but he could hear far too much. _Gross_.

“Night, princess,” Lucius murmured.

Hermione felt around for Severus and located his face. Draco stared unabashedly as she planted a passionate kiss on the Potions master. He didn’t know whether to be jealous or turned on. 

 _‘Turned on_ ,’ his cock informed him—and then swelled noticeably just to make sure he got the message. Draco was too distracted by their joined lips to admonish his willful body. 

“Goodnight, Severus,” she said when they parted.

“Goodnight, Miss Granger,” Snape whispered back. He didn’t sound so knackered anymore.

Hermione twisted around and felt all around Draco’s chest and face, searching for his mouth in the dark. He cupped her cheek with one hand and drew her in, meeting her lips with a gentle peck. Her tongue tapped for entrance, and he opened up immediately. Gods, she tasted good. Like mint and sex.

Hermione eased back then placed three soft kisses over his forehead. “Night, Draco.”

“Night, love.”

He could see the shine of her teeth as she smiled.

“See you in the morning,” she added.

“Kay,” he answered, kissing her chin.

Hermione flipped back over, and they went through the same wriggle, snuggle, arch and shift that they had before; but it went a lot faster the third time.

When everything was finally still and quiet, Draco took one last deep breath and rested his forehead against the back of her braid. She smelled wonderful. The scent dismantled his brain. Flexing his arm, he held himself tightly against her. Closer. If he could have slept inside her, he would have.

“Night,” he whispered again, kissing the nape of her neck.

“Goodnight, sleep tight, Draco,” she answered back, muffled by Snape’s chest. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.

“There are no bedbugs in this bed,” Lucius warned darkly. “Don’t say such things. You’ll give me odd dreams.”

Hermione giggled, jiggling Draco. “I’ll protect you.”

“Thank you, princess,” he mumbled.

Draco tapped Snape’s boney side with one finger. “Night, Severus.”

It sounded like Snape was smiling when he said, “Goodnight, Draco.”

“Goodnight, Father,” Draco piped up, just to rankle the old man.

“Yes, yes. Goodnight, Draco,” Lucius huffed.

Snape must have been in a jovial mood, because he jumped right in on Draco’s game. “Goodnight, Lucius.”

“Bloody hell,” Lucius groaned. “Very well. Goodnight, Severus. Is that everybody now?”

Hermione started laughing again. “Goodnight, John Boy.”

Severus actually chuckled out loud when Lucius asked who the hell John Boy was. “It's from an old Muggle program on the telly. American. You’d hate it.”

“Marvelous,” Lucius muttered.

The laughter slowly died down, and Draco closed his eyes again, a smile still on his face. He was just starting to float off into a world of Hermione-scented dreams, when he felt Snape’s hand on the back of his head.

Severus gently stroked his neck, his long fingers gliding up and down in a slow caress. It wasn’t really sexual; more of a pet of camaraderie. But Draco’s body tended to interpret soothing as arousing. Luckily, Hermione was the only witness to his turgid predicament, and she would think the chub was brought on by her proximity.

For a minute Draco didn’t know how to react. Snape had never really touched him like that before. But Draco sure as hell didn’t want him to stop. Just because he was a little confused didn’t mean he didn’t like it.

Draco lightly ran his pinky back and forth along Snape’s ribs so he’d know he could continue. Severus mirrored the pinky signal then went back to his petting.

It wasn’t that Draco hadn’t had some same-sex fun in the past. Blaise was always good for a wank or a suck. But he’d never really been attracted to wizards the way he was to witches. Witches were all soft and giving. Wizards were too hard and harsh.

And Severus was one tough bastard.

But now that he’d spent more time with him, Draco could see the man behind the frock coat. Watching him dominate Hermione was absolutely spellbinding. When Snape would come in and wash Hermione while they were in the tub together, Draco almost came on himself every time. His godfather was an enigmatic blend of commanding control with flecks of softhearted sweetness sprinkled on top.

But Merlin help the poor sod who had the temerity to mention that out loud. Severus would stake his tongue to the front lawn for even hinting at such blasphemy.

Draco preferred his tongue to remain just where it was.

But he had to admit, it was nice being the object of Snape’s affection. He was too tired to worry about what that might really mean. His eyes were getting heavy, and his blinking had become astronomically slow. He drifted off to the hypnotic rhythm of Snape’s touch, Hermione’s breast in his hand, and the smell of her body invading his nostrils.

He slept like the dead for the first time in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arrangement—An arrangement of a musical composition is a reworking of a piece of music so that it can be played by a different instrument or combination of instruments from the original. (But it has more mundane connotations here.)
> 
> "We Belong" by Pat Benatar. written by Eric Lowen and Dan Navarro and released in 1984.


	35. Whole Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well this took for freaking ever. But now I’ve got four chapters ready for you all. I’ll post one a day until they’re all up. And I looked ahead, and I think a bunch of the upcoming chapters won’t need rewriting or anything—just editing—so I should be able to get them up faster. The only thing slowing me down is that I’m still not feeling well. I guess I’m going to have to go to a gastroenterologist or something (because it’s been a rough past week involving far more vomit than I care to see). It’s times like this I wish I still took copious amounts of tranquilizers.  
> Lots of smutty plottiness ahead. Happy reading, everybody!

35—Whole Note

“(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready.”—Barbara Mason

(Severus)

Severus was surprised how quickly he adjusted to sharing a bed with three other people. Heaping all that superfluous breathing atop a tangled knot of sweaty limbs sounded like the perfect recipe for a sleepless night. But instead of experiencing insomnia till the crack of dawn, he found the whole arrangement felt superbly natural. Peaceful even. After only a week, he caught himself longing for that time of night when the four of them were linked in Malfoy’s bed, curled up in a cluster of comfort.

Hermione was still shagging one of them alone in the evenings, but as the day dwindled to a close, they would all drift toward “the big bed.” They’d pile in and wind down from the day, each of them engaged in their own nighttime ritual. Like him, Hermione chose to read until the sandman’s arrival. Lucius was usually engrossed in some contract or calculation, scribbling out sums in a small ledger he kept for notes. Occasionally, Draco had work to review before a meeting the next day, but when he didn’t, he flipped through Quidditch magazines or, more often, cuddled up to Hermione and quietly groped her as she read. She didn’t seem to mind.

Lucius’s jealousy was visibly piqued by their prolonged contact, and he was undoubtedly billing the snuggling as extra Draco time; but Hermione somehow diffused his ire and managed to keep both Malfoys satisfied. Perhaps that was due to her unerring ability to supply just the right balm for their individual wounds. She certainly had Lucius's number. Each night, in the shadow of sleep’s approaching thrall, Hermione’s hand would invariably be joined with Lucius’s atop Snape’s chest. She would stroke and pet every knuckle, every fingernail, dancing over his palm in a sugary sweet waltz of romance and warmth.

Some nights they bade Severus to participate, stacking his hand above theirs in a tower of tenderness. But even when Severus just watched, he was still intimately involved, his chest acting as their dais, his heart beneath their hands.

Night after night, Lucius would fall asleep with his chin on Snape’s shoulder, his lips near his neck so his soft breathing lulled Severus into a hypnotic slumber. Hermione would be plastered to his side, her foot lightly rubbing along his calf like a dying second hand winding to a stop. Severus had gone from spending the majority of his nights in bleak solitude to being buried alive by lovers.

And then there was Draco . . . Draco, who was so hungry for affection—especially from an older man.

Severus was fully aware of his godson’s unspoken and, as yet, unfulfilled need for a compassionate father figure. Lucius was unlikely to step up, and Severus really didn’t mind lending a helping hand. So to speak.

Now that they were sharing a bed, it seemed perfectly acceptable to stroke Draco’s head until he dropped off. And if Severus was completely honest with himself, it relaxed him as much as it did Draco. It didn't hurt that Draco’s cautious reciprocation mercilessly plucked at his heartstrings.

And his balls.

That wasn’t a response he’d been expecting. Not that he was trying to fight it; he just wondered what the hell was going on in his brain. There seemed to be some crossed wires in the circuitry. Or perhaps Hermione was unintentionally training him to associate care with climax.

That might account for some of his reactions. But not all. The thing was, his attraction to the youngest Malfoy had been growing since he'd taken up residence at the manor. At first he thought it was simply Draco’s resemblance to a youthful Lucius that had inspired his libido—a perverse stroll down memory lane as it were. But that didn’t explain the ongoing curiosity, because once a person got past the surface features, Draco didn't resemble Lucius at all. There was a vulnerability about the boy that Severus had never seen in the Malfoy patriarch. Was that tripping some kind of protectiveness alarm in Snape’s system? Had Hermione awoken some new caregiver gene in his DNA?

Possibly. But he thought it much more likely that the sudden windfall of shagging in his life was causing his endorphin-riddled brain to associate Draco with all things sexual. He could no longer look at the boy without seeing him in some sordid scenario—rolling about the bed with Hermione, his raging cock shining with her lust, the taut muscles of his arse flexing as he thrust into her. Who wouldn’t get hard thinking such things?

But he’d have to play those inclinations by ear. Draco might only be interested in the more platonic aspects of their relationship. If he was, Severus was fine with that. Just because his body wanted something, didn’t mean he had to be a slave to its demands.

Speaking of which . . . 

Severus glanced up from his book to watch Hermione read. She was nude, her legs hidden beneath the sheets but her naked chest on full display. His cock tensed at the sight of those stiff cherry blossoms piercing the open air. This tiny little imp of a witch—with her blasted bare breasts and unruly nipples that demanded his attention with utter impunity—this girl was the glue holding together their motley crew of rehabilitated reprobates. Without her they would have languished. Draco would have continued substituting sex for real connection. Lucius would have stayed wrapped in the cold embrace of his gold—with Severus as the only witness to his stifled humanity. And what of himself? He’d be locked in his private lab all night, probably naming his test tubes and conversing with them like old friends as he slowly went insane.

But instead of a life plagued by desolation and destruction, he was thriving. With his surrogate family. In his new home. And it was her passion he had to thank for that. For some unfathomable reason, she actually wanted a bunch of damaged ex-Death Eaters. She saw something in them that no one else could.

And she made him see it too.

Lucius was suddenly brimming with charm, and Severus couldn't help noticing his oldest friend's blossoming vitality. She was responsible for that. Wasn't she? Or had Twenty-four Carat Lucius always been there, hidden deep beneath the surface? Perhaps she wasn’t just their sensual goddess of debauchery; maybe she was also their fiery goddess of transmutation, burning away Lucius’s impurities until only the desirable qualities remained. She’d done the same to Draco, transforming him from an arrogant slut into a thoughtful boyfriend.

But Hermione hadn’t actually done a thing. Her mere presence had caused Lucius and Draco to shift and grow. They’d done all the work themselves without even realizing it.

Was he also a new man? Had she altered his outlook and made him more appealing? If she had, she was a truly gifted witch and deserved another Order of Merlin.

Now that he gave it some thought, he _had_ been feeling different. Lighter. Less angry. But how could any man’s personality not take a turn for the better when he had a beautiful, attentive lover greeting him with a million watt smile every single day? It was damn nice to have someone around who only saw the best in him. Not just someone who put up with him or grudgingly tolerated his less appealing traits. She really wanted _him_ —just as he was.

Just as Lily had once favored him.

Lucius had been wrong about his reasons for holding back with Hermione. It wasn't fear of rejection, and Snape wasn’t worried about her being taken away. Well . . . he was a little; bad things happened—that was the story of his life. The real issue was one of devotion and betrayal. And habit. Lily had been his _raison d’être_ for so many years he couldn’t imagine doing something as crass as replacing her. That wasn't honorable. And he wasn't even sure if he could so much as function without the crutch of Lily’s memory; he’d been propping himself up with it for so long it had worn a groove in his psyche. Granted, he wanted to take care of Hermione, and he knew he was starting to love her; but never would he allow himself to fall _in love_ with her. A safe distance would need to be maintained, just as he did with Lucius. Severus would give her what she needed, but it seemed prudent to leave the deeper sentiments to Draco and Lucius. It was doubtful he possessed such feelings anyway. He’d cut off his emotions long ago. The fact that she’d unearthed what she had was a miracle.

Hermione the miracle worker. Snape smiled to himself and closed his book. It was time to repay some of that charity. Ducking his head, he used his prodigious nose to push aside the wispy strands of hair that had escaped her bedtime braid. Brushing his lips across her ear, he rumbled a silky, “What are you reading tonight?”

“Runes in Ruins,” she muttered.

“Mmmm,” he purred. “Very erotic.”

Snickering, she nodded. “It is to me.”

“Are you wet?”

Hermione looked up, her brown eyes dancing with mirth. “No.”

“Would you like to be?”

Ah! There was the smile that made his stomach flip. 

"What did you have in mind?” she asked deviously.

Severus glanced back at Lucius, who met his eye with a questioning quirk of one brow. Inclining his head, Severus indicated that he should put away his work, and Lucius’s curiosity immediately morphed to sly collusion. 

Turning back to Hermione, Snape set the play in motion, tickling the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. “It’s not what I have in mind, little girl—it’s what _you_ have in mind. I know what fantasy you’ve been fixating on for the past couple of weeks, and I think it’s time to make it a reality.”

As his words sank in, her ribs expanded rapidly, a splash of pink staining her breast.

"I think you’ve waited long enough to have that tight little bottom penetrated,” he growled, enunciating each word so his voice trickled over her senses like honey. “Tell me the truth, is my little girl ready for her first buggering?”

She slipped her hand into his and squeezed his fingers in a death grip. “I am . . . but I’m . . . apprehensive.”

“I know,” he murmured. Pretty much everyone was nervous their first time, but he was confident she would enjoy it— _if_ she could relax. “It may feel strange at first, but I promise it won’t hurt. We’ll all make sure you love it.”

“You’re _all_ going to bugger me?”

He didn’t need to guess why she sounded so concerned. “I’ll go last, after you’re warmed up.”

“What if I can’t take it?”

“Then we’ll stop. This is up to you—what you want. All you have to do is tell us it’s too much. This isn’t a requirement or a deal breaker. We just want to give you as much pleasure as possible. Does that sound like something that might interest you?” he asked teasingly.

“Yes, sir.”

 _Sir already?_ _I know a little girl who’s soaking the sheets as we speak_. Severus planted a row of downy kisses from her cheek to her ear, all while drawing her shaking hand into his lap for a little de-stressing distraction. Shifting her anxious grip into his right hand, he used his left to caress her thigh. “I think we should incorporate some of your . . . _wetter_ secret fantasies into the pre-show preparations.”

"What d’you mean?”

His hand moved higher, lightly stroking her soft bush, but purposely avoiding any breach of her creaming slit. Her clit would have to wait until her arse got the attention it deserved. “That means that I’m not going to use the usual cleansing charm; I’m going to do it the old-fashioned way.”

She went still. “You mean . . . ?”

“Mm-hm,” Snape hummed, nuzzling her ear. “I got you a set of enema equipment the day after I saw you drooling over those pictures in the book.”

Her face instantaneously heated, the blush baking his nose.

“I know how much you want it,” he whispered against her neck. “And I know how nervous you are about not only doing it but having Draco and Lucius watch.”

“You’re going to let them watch?” she interjected, a note of horror in her whisper. “They’ll think it’s too weird.”

“No they won’t,” he said soothingly. “They love your naughty little girl side just as much as I do. I won't lie to you though—it _will_ be embarrassing. But I hope you’ll come to see that you don’t have to hide _anything_ from _any_ of us. You need to show them how much you trust them; if you open up to them, they’ll open up to you.”

“What about you?” she asked, her eyes searching his.

“What about me?”

“Will it open you up too?”

He was already open. Far more than he cared to be. But he wasn't foolish enough to think that seeing her offer up such a protected part of herself wouldn't inspire his newfound urges to even greater heights. “Possibly.”

“Make them promise not to laugh.”

Severus smiled and kissed her forehead. “They won’t.” Wrapping his arm around her, he sqidged her shoulders in a brief hug. “If you’re really up for this, I want you to go use the loo. I know how jumpy your bladder gets when you’re anxious.”

“You promise you’ll take care of me?” she asked, peeking up at him through her lashes.

Snape’s heart hurdled into his throat. Bloody hell, was she trying to kill him with all that doe-eyed defenselessness? Tipping up her chin with his index finger, he placed a chaste kiss to her lips to assure her that he could, indeed, provide the care she required. “Yes, I promise.”

Hermione looked quite pleased with his kiss. Or maybe she had picked up on his subtle emotional crack. Her small hand rose to touch his cheek, which seemed to indicate the latter. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Severus kissed her palm and patted her hand. “Don’t rush yourself. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Pushing off the sheets, she crawled to the end of the bed and headed for the bathroom. When the door shut, Lucius and Draco both rounded on him.

“What’s going on?” Draco asked, tossing aside his Quidditch magazine.

“Yes,” Lucius prodded. “Why all the whispering?”

“She’s ready,” Snape said with a pointed look. “I hope this goes without saying, but we have to make it bloody spectacular. She’s scared as hell.”

“She wants us to bugger her? _Tonight_?” Lucius asked in disbelief.

“Tonight,” Severus confirmed. “And she’s been harboring some enema-themed fantasies that I intend to fulfill before we get started.”

Lucius’s pink lips pulled into a sinful grin. “Our dirty little Gryffindor.”

“She made me promise you wouldn’t laugh at her.”

“Laugh at her?” Lucius scoffed. “Nonsense.”

Severus turned to Draco. “Are you up for a special assignment?”

Draco looked utterly lost. He didn’t know about their longstanding anal plans, and the announcement seemed to have come as quite a shock. “A special . . . _buggery_ assignment?”

Severus nodded; he wanted Draco to do what he did best. His natural tendency to nurture would benefit them all. “I need you to be her support system while she takes the enema. I think if you hold her and talk her through it, she’ll relax much more quickly.”

The simple recognition of his strengths lit Draco’s pale face with a glow of pride. “Sure, I can do that.”

Lucius set Snape’s book on the bedside table for him. “How are you giving it to her?”

“I bought a nice bag—sort of a beginners’ setup. It’s in my bathroom.”

“How long are you going to make her hold it?”

“The cleansing powder I add takes ten minutes to work.”

“I’ve been saving a special plug for her. We could use it to help with the retention.”

Severus smiled. Lucius didn't have any enema fetishes that Snape was aware of, but he was obviously turned on by the prospect; he was already trying to insinuate himself into her experience. “Is it magical or Muggle?”

“Magical,” Lucius said as if the answer were obvious.

“It changes size?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Excellent.”

They all heard her washing her hands in the sink, and their eyes darted to the bathroom door.

“She’ll be out soon. Remember, our only goal is to make her love this.”

They nodded as a team then set about preparing the field for optimal playing conditions. Lucius rolled out of bed to search through his dresser, and Snape headed toward the hall to Summon the kit from his bathroom. Opening the bedroom door, he Accioed the small box of paraphernalia, and it zipped through the corridors into his waiting hands. When he set in on the dresser, Lucius passed him the plug.

“What do you think?”

It was stunning. The body was clear glass, but the crescent shaped base sparkled with what appeared to be diamonds. Severus wasn’t a jeweler; maybe they were just rhinestones. Either way, it was bloody beautiful, and she’d look outstanding with it peeking from between her cheeks. “She’ll love it.”

The corners of Lucius’s mouth curled upward, and a wave of dreamlike wonder softened his sharp features. “I can’t wait to watch you slide that nozzle up her arse. She’s going to be high as a kite.”

“Watch the nozzle . . .” Severus repeated as a brilliant idea unraveled over the landscape of his imagination. “Do you still have the mirrors?”

It took Lucius a second to catch on, but then a responding twinkle glimmered in his grey eyes. “Yes.”

"Get them out and put them up around the bed.”

"I love the way your mind works,” Lucius muttered as he set off for the hidden door to his walk-in closet.

Hermione crept out of the bathroom, looking petrified, covering herself with both hands even though they’d all seen her naked a hundred times. Using his own nudity to shield her from any budding doubts, Severus pulled her into his arms, dulling the sense of exposure she must be battling. Draco might be the most skilled when it came to emotional matters, but they would all need to be there for her if the night was to be a success.

“Everyone’s excited for the show to begin. Lucius even has a new present to help you hold in the water. Would you like to see it?”

Her nod caused the halo of hair that had escaped her plait to tickle his chest and chin, a sensation which he'd grown to appreciate during the past month.

Holding out the plug in one cupped palm, he displayed the piece for her inspection. “I believe he was saving this for a special occasion.”

"It's pretty," she said, fingering the base, her hand trembling ever so slightly.

“Your arse will make it even prettier.”

She attempted a smile but was too distracted by Lucius’s grand entrance to see it through.

Three folded privacy screens preceded Malfoy like a parade, and his usually snobbish face was animated with a boy-like grin of triumph. “Found them!”

“What’re those?” Hermione asked, a tremolo of panic in her voice.

“Where should I put them?” Lucius asked. “One above the bed and two at the sides?”

Severus nodded. “We should use your regular mirror as well . . . so she can see _everything_.”

“See everything?” Hermione echoed uncertainly.

Severus petted her head. “Just watch.”

With a swirl of his wand, Lucius arranged the screens around the bed, and as each one settled into place, they unfolded themselves, creating two walls and an awning of blank grey slabs. Lucius flicked his wand in their direction and called out the incantation: “Imago.”

The surface of each screen rippled like a wave of water, and as it stilled, a smooth mirrored surface was left in its wake, causing reflection upon endless reflection to repeat into infinity in the opposing mirrors. Draco checked his hair in the one to his left and smirked at them in reverse, waggling his eyebrows at Hermione when she caught his eye. A real smile lifted her lips, and Severus breathed a sigh of relief. Draco would do a fine job keeping her calm.

"We want you to see how magnificent your arse looks,” Severus whispered, suggestively tracing the apex of her crack with one finger. “You’re going to be quite a sight.” He slid his other hand around her waist and turned her so she could feel his cock filling against her lower back. “Just look how excited Draco already is.”

She spied Draco’s erection tenting the sheets, and her smile blossomed to full radiance.

“Lucius told me he’s dying to see the enema nozzle penetrating your perfect little bum, and I must admit, the image has been plaguing my mind since that day at your flat.” He nudged her with his cock to emphasize his words. “I think it's safe to say I'm keen to get started. Would you like to see what I got you before we begin?”

Hermione stood on tiptoe and peered into the box he indicated.

Snape pulled out a clear two liter enema bag with an attached hose. “Don't worry, I won’t fill it full your first time.” Picking up the thin, white nozzle, he compared it to his own fingers so she’d see there was nothing to be afraid of. “Not even as big as my thumb. You won’t have any trouble taking it.”

She seemed relieved he’d gone with something so tame. He’d keep the alternate nozzles under wraps for the time being. She had enough on her plate for one night.

"I'll go put in some warm water, and then I'll add this special powder.” He showed her the lemon yellow concoction he’d pre-measured into a small phial. “I made it myself. It will vanish all waste it comes into contact with, and it'll keep your electrolytes balanced. When it’s time for you to let it out, it will purge the water completely.”

Her face flamed to an eye catching hot pink.

Severus bit back his snicker and stroked her overheated cheek. “We don’t want you leaking for hours to come; any liquid left inside after the expulsion will disappear in five minutes. You _will_ have to retain the mixture for ten minutes so it has time to work, but I don’t think that will be a problem.”

Swallowing hard, she mashed her mouth into a tight line and nodded once in understanding.

“Draco has agreed to assist,” he said as he led her to the bed. “He’s going to help you relax. Come down here, Draco.” It was best to keep things moving so she didn’t have time to let her imagination run amuck.

Draco crawled out from beneath the sheet and sat with his legs dangling off the foot bed . . . his adamantine erection stabbing him in the stomach. Merlin’s balls, was he just constantly rock hard nowadays? Not that Severus was complaining—it was a magnificent sight—he just wondered how Draco wasn't swooning from lack of blood flow. Snape motioned for him to lie on his back—partially for the boy’s own safety.

“All right. Straddle Draco just the way you do when you ride him, but put your chest against his and stick your arse in the air.”

Draco helped Hermione into place, stroking her body as she got comfortable and then hugging her tightly when she rested against him. “You’re shivering, love. You’re not too cold, are you?”

She shook her head no and hid her face in his neck.

“She’s just a little nervous,” Severus murmured, and then, leaning down, he kissed her left bum cheek. “Let Draco take care of you, and I’ll go get everything ready.”

“‘Kay,” she whispered.

Leaving Draco to his assignment, Severus took the enema bag to prepare it for action. As he passed Lucius, Malfoy flashed him a lascivious smirk and reached out to trail one hand across his lower abdomen, his fingers raking over the swell of pubic hair just above his cock. Tease. With a tilt of his head, Severus indicated that Lucius should fill in for him and help Draco with the petting and reassurances. Lucius nodded, but before heading over, he stroked the length of Snape’s prick in a parting grope, causing it to slam into Malfoy’s hand like a lead pipe. That seemed to be all Lucius was after, because once he’d given Snape a testing squeeze, he strolled off toward the bed with a smug smile. Severus laughed to himself as he stepped into the bathroom. If he had known Lucius was going to be so aroused by the scene, he would have talked it over with him during their last rendezvous in the drawing room. Lucius would have been blowing his load in record time—something to keep in mind for future nooners.

Lucius’s en suite bathroom was an elaborate profusion of elegance and refinement. But those marble floors were so fucking cold. Severus winced as the icy tile bit at the soles of his feet on his way to the sink. 

Using his wand, he filtered the water and then heated it to a comfortable temperature for her. The powder dissolved on contact, and he swirled the bag around to ensure that it was evenly incorporated. After attaching the long, thin nozzle, Snape unclipped the hose to run the air out of the line. 

Everything was set. It was time to begin.

His cock went stone solid, driven skyward by the magnitude of that realization and all it entailed. She wanted to be theirs in every way imaginable. And he wanted to give her everything imaginable in return. If only he had something of equal importance to share. He knew what she would value above all else—a good dose of heartfelt candor—but his inner guard couldn't drop its defenses; its muscles had been locked in a rigid posture of protection since childhood. As much as he'd love to release that tension, it wasn't something he could do at will.

No, he'd have to rest on his laurels. Luckily, his cock was always a crowd pleaser.

Returning to the master bedroom, he found Lucius leaning against the foot of the bed, his hand gliding up and down her bum as if he were slowly buffing her to a high shine.

Severus tapped the bag, and it floated beside him like a liquid specter. “Lube?”

Lucius spun around the mirrored screen to fetch it from the drawer. When he held it out, Severus passed him the nozzle for safe keeping. With a flick of his thumb, Snape popped open the cap and dispensed a wide line of shine down his two middle fingers. 

“I’m just going to get you nice and slippery first,” he told her and placed a hand on her hip to let her know he was there. “Ready?”

“Yes, sir,” she squeaked into Draco’s neck.

“Good girl.”

He slowly stroked the shallow valley between her cheeks, greasing her from the tip top of her fissure all the way down to her perineum, a path that earned him an undulating dance of gratitude. As gently as possible, he traced the ring of brown framing her anus, circling its wreathe of brunette peach fuzz. When he touched the dark dip in the center, she bore down, and his fingertip sank inside, her adorable arsehole sucking him in like a high powered vacuum. Impressed by her unflinching trust, he administered a slow finger fucking to reward her ready acceptance.

When they were alone, she had habitually responded to all anal insertions with a needy whine and an unconscious humping of her hips. Apparently pre-enema lubing was no exception to the rule. Rocking back, she rode him hard, forcing him even deeper, and when he added another finger, she whimpered and amped up her efforts.

Severus felt along the thin membrane separating her arse from her pussy until he reached the area just behind her cervix. Curling his fingertips in an alternating run, he targeted the flip side of one of her favorite spots. “How’s that feel?”

She hissed through her teeth. “Good, sir.”

“Are you still scared?”

“Yes, sir.”

He shared a silent chuckle with Lucius and moved his other hand between her legs, skating over her clit with just a hint of pressure. “Keep talking to her, Draco.”

Her folds were dripping with crystalline satin, which boded well for them. If she was that excited by a little stretching, she was going to explode like a five-foot Christmas cracker when they actually took her arse. While she was distracted by the clitoral stimulation, he added another finger round back to make sure she wouldn't tense when faced with real resistance. The last time they’d played Head Girl and the Anal Examination, she'd taken three and a half without batting an eye. In fact, she’d pleaded for more. Rather loudly if memory served. The current circumstances were a bit different, but he was prepared to wait out any stage fright.

She didn’t make him wait long.

When her sphincter admitted defeat, he began to slowly scissor his fingers wider and draw them in and out of her pliant channel. There was a brief clamping as her body fought the rearrangement, but in less than a minute, she resumed rocking, her thighs trembling with an overabundance of energy. Draco’s arms tightened around her, and Severus snickered when he felt the boy's damp knob tap the back of his hand. Someone was enjoying his new job as Calming Captain.

“All right, Lucius, hand me the nozzle.”

Severus eased out of her backside and pinched the nozzle’s base between his slick fingers. Lucius had already coated it in lubricant, which was helpful since Severus didn’t have any more free hands. Placing the curved tip against her twitching whorl, he carefully slid it in—then back out—fucking her with it just to see her dance again.

And what a dance it was. Her pussy was glittering like a damn disco ball. Severus half expected to see Lucius break into The Hustle at any moment.

Thankfully, Lucius was too busy rolling over his gilt-framed, full-length mirror to even give a thought to such horrors. Severus threw him a grateful look and stepped to one side so he’d have room to position the mirror for maximum impact.

“Turn your head, Miss Granger. Look back here and tell me what you see.”

Twisting her neck to peer over her shoulder, Hermione’s eyes went cartoonishly round.

“A vision to behold, no? And look how wet your pretty pussy is.” He parted her slick labia with two fingers to make sure she could see the blinding shine of her own excitement. “Keep watching.”

Severus clicked the flow regulator on the hose, and she gasped when the liquid shot up her rectum. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her breath escaped in several rough bursts that screamed obscene. Draco’s ribald cock bounced about in cheerful agreement.

“Yesssss,” Severus purred, continuing to circle her juicy clit with the tip of his finger. “That’s nice, isn’t it?”

Lucius was right behind him, one arm limply encircling his waist, and his chin resting on Snape's shoulder so he could watch. He must have found it equally appealing, because his dick was about to drill a hole through Snape’s sacrum.

Severus pressed back into him, flexing his arse against the stiff protrusion. “Lucius thinks you look outstanding.”

Malfoy chuckled against his neck. “I most certainly do. You’re exquisite, princess. When you’ve taken all that water, I’m going to lick your sweet little pussy while you hold it. Would you like that?”

“Yes, sir.” She sounded stoned, her voice slurred and heavy. 

The barrel of muscles surrounding her entrance convulsed in pleasure, and Severus had to hold the nozzle in place so she wouldn’t push it out. “You’re being such a good girl for us. Are you hugging Draco so you don’t get scared?”

“Yes, sir.”

"The water isn't going too fast for you, is it?”

“No, sir.”

“Tell me if you get a cramp.”

"It just feels funny.”

“I know. That’s how it’s supposed to feel. You’re doing very well. The bag is already half empty.”

The pace of her breathing became jagged and desperate, and she flipped her head to one side to hide her face in Draco’s shoulder. “I think I’m gonna come, sir.”

“You’re allowed. I want you to come as many times as you can tonight.”

Draco cupped the back of her neck, up under her braid, and pulled her face to his, kissing her deeply.

Clever boy. He was giving her an outlet for her maniacal oral fixation while also making her feel safe and loved, essentially adding on a layer of reassurance at the height of her mortification—solidifying the shaky experience with reward so her subconscious would label the incident as positive. Severus doubted Draco even realized what he was doing. It just came to him naturally.

A low keening resonated from her chest, and she arched her back hard as the climax took hold. Lucius grunted and gripped Snape’s cock in a loose fist, rolling his hand up and down his length as her keening curdled to a cry. Severus could have done without the handjob. The visual alone had his bollocks tightening as if they wanted to eject their contents in a sympathetic explosion of shared bliss.

Swallowing thickly, he choked back his urges and busied his brain with the task of holding the nozzle in place, which was an arduous job what with the violent pulsing of her pelvic muscles. It looked as if her pussy was in spasm, its mouth opening in a silent scream and then snapping shut with each contraction. Giving the nozzle a gentle wiggle, Snape provided the touch of deep anal stimulation that always flipped her lid. He wanted to overwhelm her with pleasure that night. There was nothing worse than having a long-held fantasy fall flat. But he knew if they surpassed her expectations, she’d want to do it again and again—and he intended to meet that hope head on.

When she slumped against Draco like a sack of potatoes, Severus ceased all manual manipulations and let her rest. “Such a good girl. And you’ve almost taken the whole bag. Are you feeling nice and full?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is it uncomfortable?”

"Um . . . no. Just strange."

Severus raised the bag so the remaining water drained into her. “All right. You’re done. I’m going to put in your new plug now. Make sure you hold in the water when I pull out.”

She clenched her arse as if she were trying to pinch a Knut between her cheeks, and he had to pry the nozzle from her like a cork out of a champagne bottle. When it finally fell free, he handed all the apparatus over to Lucius, who sent it to the bathroom while Snape greased the plug.

It took several minutes of massage to loosen the adamant muscles of her buttocks, but eventually, Severus got the plug’s pointed tip partway inside her. 

“That’s it,” he crooned. “It’s not big. Just a finger or two. Let me in.”

Once she passed the widest section, the plug slid right into place, glittering between her globes like a sequined star. “I’m going to expand it inside you to help you hold in everything. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

Snape waved his hand over the base, concentrating on its gradual enlargement. He wanted it big enough to assist with the retention while also providing the intense fullness she seemed to crave.

An eager moan slipped from her lips, and she arched into the most accommodating of contortions, indicating he’d succeeded on both fronts.

“All right,” Severus said, giving her bum one last kiss, this time commemorating her success. “Just ten minutes, and then you can let that out.”

Lucius reached over and reverently touched the spot Severus had just kissed, as if he could feel the after-burn of affection warming her skin. “My turn, princess.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whole Note -- A whole note is equal to 2 half notes, 4 quarter notes, 8 eighth notes, etc.  
> I think this is the only chapter where I chose the musical term strictly because of its appearance. (Whole notes being the most anal of the bunch.)
> 
> "Yes, I'm Ready" by Barbara Mason. Written by Barbara Mason and released in March of 1965. The song was her highest charting hit, hitting no. 2 on the Billboard R and B chart and no. 5 on the Billboard Hot 100.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2JGPcOkebXc>
> 
> Imago=Latin for image


	36. Leading Note

36—Leading Note  


“Take me to church.”—Hozier  


(Lucius)  


“Climb up the bed, princess. I can’t lick you if you’re all smashed against Draco.”  


"Just lift your leg, love,” Draco said, patting her hip. “I’ll roll out so you don’t have to move around too much.” Shimmying out from under her, Draco scooted to the foot of the bed, where he slipped to the floor and stretched his arms above his head to pull the kinks from his back. “I’m dying to see your arse, Granger. I bet y—“ He froze when he spotted the glittering crystals slicing the cleft of her cheeks. “Bloody fucking hell . . . you _are_ sparkly.”  


Amused relief flooded her face, and Lucius was grateful for the status update on her current mood. They needed to keep her smiling.  


Or moaning.  


Preferably both.  


Draco eased aside one labium with the tip of his finger, peeking into her depths with an innocent wonder that reminded Lucius of long ago Christmas mornings when Draco had been young and full of genuine excitement, his eyes going wide as he spotted the mountain of presents piled beneath the tree. Pre-jaded Draco. Lucius had almost forgotten such a boy existed. But he could see how Hermione’s warmth could thaw the cold grip of surfeited indifference. She had a way about her that made every moment feel like a gift.  


And that pussy was beyond compare. Priceless.  


The shine inside was nothing short of dazzling, and the animal aroma of arousal smacked them both in the face like a pheromone drenched quirt, almost dropping Lucius to his knees. Draco didn’t seem any steadier, the knuckles of his free hand going white as he gripped the bedspread. Draco’s tongue crept out to wet his lips, and Lucius knew his son's mouth was watering just as copiously as his own. A Malfoy idiosyncrasy?  


The sense of smell was overlooked by too many lovers; perhaps that was one of the reasons he’d been drawn to Severus—that man could identify any potion ingredient with barely a whiff . . . and he didn’t shy away from sniffing out his companion’s response when the brewing moved to the bedroom. That nose had teased him to more than one climax over the years.  


The need for more of her heady scent forced Lucius to dip into her shadows and pin her other petal to the side, opening her like a flower and releasing her perfume into the atmosphere. A milky jewel of cream clung to her crimson folds like morning dew, and Lucius was mesmerized by its beauty. No garden could hold a candle to the natural majesty of the female genitalia. No painting, no song, no verse could match its artistry. She was a masterpiece.  


“Look how wet you got for me,” Lucius murmured. “What a messy little feast you’re going to be. Move up the bed a little, love. But stay in the same position. Trust me, you don’t want gravity working against you right now. Go slowly.”  


She did as he asked, her faceted plug twinkling at them like a crystal chandelier. Their hands fell away as she moved out of reach, but Lucius trailed one finger along her leg just to maintain physical contact for as long as possible. Draco stayed next to the mirror, his gaze fixed on her derrière as if he were imagining just how sublime it would be to partake of that luscious rump.  


For once they were on the same page.   


Lucius climbed in behind her and rolled onto his back so he could slide under her pussy face first. He felt he’d been insanely patient up to that point, and he deserved to break his fast in a manner most gluttonous.  


Gliding backward, he parked his head in the triangular gap of her thighs so her pelvis towered over him like a gothic cathedral—the curves and arches of which were designed to draw the parishioner’s eye to heaven. His dick certainly found it inspirational. Lifting his hands in praise, he parted her vestibule and entered the nave where he found her font overflowing. Lucius proceeded as any devotee would and lapped up her holy water to sanctify his tongue. _Mmmmmm, bless the lord._  


Pulling her down so her pussy was sealed against his mouth, he slowly worked her clit, occasionally sipping the rivers of arousal that seeped from her core. The salty-sweet wine of her desire was all-encompassing. Eternal. His tongue sliced through the rippling waves, searching for salvation in her ecstasy. God dammit! That flavor was transcendent. She was the source of all ambrosia. And she always tasted even better after an orgasm. Sweeter. Like a champagne truffle.  


Would her arse be even more succulent? He’d have to wait for a time when she wasn’t full of lube and toys and water to get a real taste, but he suspected his cock was in for a sugar high later that night.  


Although he was looking forward to the physical aspects of her anal deflowerment, it was the underlying trust and meaning behind her choice that turned him on both mentally and spiritually. She was going to give herself to them in ways she’d never given herself to any wizard before. They would have a piece of her that no one else could claim. Some primal part of him wanted that feather in his cap. She would be theirs—lock, stock, and clenching sphincter.  


And she was asking them to escort her into that new world, placing the onus of her initiation into the hands of her lovers, wordlessly expressing her faith in them so the initiation became theirs as much as hers. Lucius felt the weight and honor of that responsibility, and he ached to prove himself to her.  


He had no idea what kind of a backdoor lover Draco was—or if he had any experience at all—but Lucius was positive both he and Severus could take her to the soul-shattering peaks of rapture. Once she got a taste of the pleasure and intimacy engendered by the deepest penetration imaginable, she would want them in her arse all the time.  


Snape would be happy with that, but Lucius loved her pussy too much to switch to an all-buggery diet. He did, however, fancy a varied menu, and this would open the door to a slew of new options. If she enjoyed anal, she would absolutely adore double-penetration. He could just imagine Severus reaming her tight arse, while he himself received the full blessings of her gushing quim. They would rock her up and down their dueling shafts like a carousel of cock. And she'd beg to ride them again and again. A fun time for all.  


Lucius slid two fingers up her slick channel and groaned at the impossible tightness the plug supplied. Sweet Circe. Severus had gone all out with the expansion. Curling his fingers, Lucius deftly stroked her g-spot, priming her for another explosive orgasm.  


Soft, girly noises of excitement filled the air, and although his ears were somewhat muffled by her thighs, his dick heard her loud and clear, going stiff as a board and straining toward his stomach. He longed to be inside her, but he wanted to take his time, revel in her body, memorize her reactions. Finding a nice rhythm, he gave her clit a steady licking to draw her into the caldera of climax.  


She began to shift and curl, rolling her hips toward his face in search of more tongue. Hmm . . . was that groan of need he heard . . . or was it a groan of pressure? How uncomfortable was that water getting? Lifting his other hand to her belly, he carefully stroked her lower abdomen.  


“Uuunnnnh!”  


Snape's voice came from somewhere near the foot of the bed, "Just a few more minutes, Miss Granger, and then you can let that out. But first you need to give Lucius what he wants.”  


“Yes, sir,” she moaned.  


“Look at the mirror,” Snape rumbled. “I want you to see your face when you come.”  


She must have been struck senseless by the sight of him buried between her thighs, because she went completely still for several breathless seconds. Then her hand found the top of his head, and her fingers were running through his hair as if she were thanking him for his services. He smiled into her silken heat. _Come for me, my sweet little princess_.  


“Luuuuuciusssss.” Her moan shifted to a hiss as she neared her goal.  


Her vaginal muscles twitched once around his fingers. Twice. She was ready. Lucius hummed softly into her honied flesh, adding another layer of sensation. Chopin’s Prelude in E minor. She’d like that.  


Her lower body quaked with a tremor of warning, so Lucius simply encouraged her to crumble by lapping her clit in time with the driving bass line, humming the melody so his lips and tongue buzzed with vibration.  


“Ahhh!”  


Her shout echoed against the mirrors as her pussy bore down and pulsed against his lips. Streamers of sweetness hit his chin and ran along his neck, tickling his skin with their watery trails. Swallowing a mouthful, he restored himself with her magic. He wanted to drink every ounce of her. Every day. No one made an elixir like Granger.  


Although Snape came close.  


Combined, they would be an award winning vintage sent from the gods.  


When she wound down and went still, he carefully pulled his fingers from her stuttering cunny and patted her bum, smearing her release all over her arse. “Feel better now, love?”  


“Yes, sir,” she said, panting into the bed. “Thank you.”  


He laughed. "You're welcome. Are you still nervous?”  


“Not as much.”  


Severus traced the tips of Lucius’s fingers with his own, spreading her sticky nectar far and wide. “Come along, little girl. It’s time to let out that water.”  


Lucius slid from beneath her and, sitting up, gave Severus his most devilish grin.  


Snape snickered and touched the side of his own lips to indicate that Lucius had missed a spot. “You’ve got a touch of something—just here.”  


Lucius poked his tongue into the corner of his mouth and licked up a splash of spent juice. He could feel her drying on his jaw, tendrils of cooling secretions marking her place on his face. “Did I get it all?”  


Severus chuckled silently and shook his head no. “Not even close.”  


“I was saving the rest for you.”  


Snape helped Hermione crawl down the bed, his smirk never faltering. “Your generosity knows no bounds.”  


Lucius snorted, and they both gingerly eased her to the floor while she guarded her swollen abdomen with one hand.  


Severus put his arm around her shoulders and said, “We’ll be back soon,” as he steered her toward the loo.  


Tipping his head to the side, Lucius twisted an almighty crack from his neck then slid off the bed and went in search of the lube. It was best to have things prepared before her return so she didn’t have time to worry whilst she waited.  


Draco was sprawled out in one of the wingback chairs, staring through the glass balcony doors into the dark night. He looked as though he was trying to project an air of cool nonchalance, but his body was too tense to pull off the charade. Truthfully, Lucius was impressed Draco wasn’t bouncing off the walls. His own body felt as if it were bursting at the seams.  


Staying quiet, they both eavesdropped on the couple in the bathroom. Snape had left the door open, but Lucius didn’t think having a visible audience would ease her embarrassment, so he cautiously remained out of sight. He had no desire to watch her expel a bum full of water anyway. He didn’t think Snape was into that either, but the Potions master did enjoy seeing her blush, and he would do whatever it took to make her love every second of mortifying submission. Lucius could hear him murmuring something, his words unintelligible but his tone a cascade of soothing hums.  


Creeping to the door, Lucius peeked around the frame to see if she was really okay. He needn’t have feared being spotted. She was turned away, facing the other wall; and she was hugging Snape’s waist, her cheek pressed to his stomach as if she couldn’t bear to be seen. Severus was standing between her legs rubbing her neck, his voice so quiet he could barely be heard over the sound of water on water.  


Lucius smiled at the oddly heartwarming picture they presented. He’d never seen Severus doing anything so—dare he say it—sweet. Perhaps Hermione had inadvertently found a way around Snape’s fortress.  


She had already scaled Lucius’s walls without so much as a running leap, invading his castle and turning his defenses upside down. He might as well have given her the key to his most guarded thoughts. The strange part was he _wanted_ her to find his secrets; he wanted her to find everything.  


He wanted her to find him.  


She had already discovered much more than he'd ever expected. Things he’d forgotten he felt. Things he had _never_ felt. Things he wanted to feel again.  


Lucius had actually been feeling rather amazing lately. Especially since his bed had been designated as their nightly love nest. Snape was a surprisingly comfortable person to lie against, and once the lights were out, Lucius was asleep in record time. Hermione would pet his arm until she got groggy, and he’d watch her in the dark, her fluffy head perched on Snape’s chest. Stroking her soft cheek, Lucius would zone out, his brain hazing to a blurry calm until all the blabbering noise of the day came to a grinding halt. Snape was like a giant charmed metronome, and his measured pulse lulled Lucius into a hypnotic state of relaxation. Between the harmonic lullabies produced by his lovers, he couldn't keep his eyes open.  


Since Narcissa’s passing, he'd found sleep to be damnably elusive. Solitude wasn’t his strong suit. Snape had been keeping him somewhat sane in the intervening years, but thankfully, ever since Hermione had lumped them all into his bed, he’d been getting real recuperative rest every single night. It was impossible to tell if he felt so alive because of the increased shuteye, or if the Hermione-high was becoming permanent.  


Either seemed equally likely.  


Snape had been wrong about him wanting to turn Hermione into Narcissa. He wanted Hermione to keep being Hermione, because he couldn’t pinpoint what it was about her that left him in such a magnificently altered mood.  


It could have been her excitement and passion for life. Narcissa had never gotten excited about anything; she played it cool. Ice cold if need be. Hermione rarely played it cool. Sometimes she possessed a regal quality and exuded a sense of power that could have rivaled Narcissa’s ice queen control, but for the most part, she was just warm and honest.  


Maybe that was it. Maybe he could relax around Granger because her words and actions lacked any hint of pretense. He didn’t know anyone else like that. Although . . . most of his acquaintances were Slytherins, so blatant honesty wasn’t usually encouraged.  


Whatever it was about her, once he’d experienced it, he couldn't let it go. If that meant he had to share her with Snape and Draco, then so be it. Of course he cared deeply for Severus, so that was more of a combo deal. Draco was a bit more complicated. Despite what everyone thought, his love for Draco was profound . . . but he was getting to know the boy far better than any father should know his son. Draco’s neediness still rankled him, but Hermione obviously welcomed it. Lucius might not understand the dynamic between them, but if it made Hermione happy, he would overlook the more vexatious aspects of Draco’s disposition.   


For the time being.   


When Hermione and Severus seemed to be wrapping things up in the loo, Lucius backed away from the door and went to the bed to await her return. He needed to compose himself before things got underway. Intense situations called for a cool head and a steady hand.  


In less than five minutes, Snape brought out an abnormally shy Hermione, who was stuck to him like a barnacle, her face red and her eyes locked on the floor.  


“All clean,” Severus said softly, flashing them a smirk. “She’s says she’s ready to try more.”  


Lucius wanted to wrap her in his arms and squeeze the embarrassment out of her. Severus had been right—they needed to make the night spectacular. Hermione deserved the best.  


Crossing to their side, Lucius pressed his body to Snape’s and slid his arm around her shoulders, creating a small scrum of reassurance. “Don’t be embarrassed, love. You’re far too beautiful to be looking so unsure of yourself.” He ran his fingers along her neck and pulled her closer to kiss the top of her head. “And any time you get the urge for another enema, I definitely want to be there to see it. The sight of you coming with that nozzle up your arse might be the single most exquisite scene I’ve ever witnessed.”  


Her other arm snaked around him so she was hugging them both.  


Leaning in, Severus rested his lips next to Lucius's ear. “Thank you. She needed to hear that.”  


Lucius couldn’t remember the last time he'd heard those two words cross Snape's lips.  


Severus ran one hand along her back. “I think Lucius should be the first to . . . venture into no man's land.”  


“I beg to differ,” Draco interjected.  


Chuckling, Snape looked over as Draco approached the huddle. “Please don’t take it personally, Draco. It’s just that we need to start her out with someone experienced. How many witches have you buggered?”  


“Plenty,” Draco said defensively.  


“How many of them were virgins?”  


Draco was quieter after that. “None.”  


Severus nodded. “As I said, Lucius should go first. Draco, you’ll go next.”  


Draco agreed with a reluctant nod.  


“But,” Severus added, “why don’t you continue your calming regime. She still needs to stay as relaxed as possible, and you're doing a fine job so far.”  


“Okay. How are we actually doing this?”  


Severus smoothed his hand over Hermione’s hair to get her attention.“I think you’d be most comfortable on your side. How does that sound?”  


Hermione nodded.  


“Good,” he murmured and kissed her forehead. “Then why don’t you retract your nails from my spleen and go with Lucius. You know he’ll take care of you.”  


A chagrined smile tugged at her lips, and she switched affiliation by affixing her hip to Lucius’s.  


Tightening his arm, Lucius drew her against him. “Look at me, princess. Let me see those beautiful brown eyes.”  


She turned her face to his, a soft smile lighting her countenance.  


Lucius trailed his fingers over her cheek and then leaned down for a kiss. His tongue slipped past her lips, and she surrendered immediately, leaning on him for strength and sighing into his mouth like a song. Lucius’s stomach couldn’t decide whether to ooze out of his navel or soar up into his heart. He was pretty sure it was doing both and had actually spattered all over his aorta.  


When he pulled back, her lips were parted and wet, and he traced the glistening lower petal with his thumb. “Let’s get in bed, love. I think it’s time for you to come again.”  


“Yes, sir,” she breathed.  


As she climbed in, Lucius rubbed her arse and eyed the dark shadow bisecting her bum. Even though he'd seen and touched every inch of that divine fissure, he wondered what mysteries had yet to be discovered, what pleasures awaited them both. And he couldn’t believe he was going to be her first. His thoughts wandered back to his own inaugural anal encounter—a painful romp at the age of fifteen with a classmate two years his senior. Although he had ultimately enjoyed the experience, Lucius wished he’d found a partner with a skosh more finesse. Or _any_ finesse. His first time _could_ have been splendid, and he couldn’t bear the thought of saddling Hermione with that same regret.  


Lucius followed after her and set about rearranging the pillows to make sure she was comfortable. Hermione watched him with anxious eyes, her teeth scraping at her lower lip as if she was trying to gnaw off the pink.  


"Just roll on your side, love. I'll be behind you.”  


Snape and Draco joined them, Severus slithering in behind him, taking Lucius's usual spot since Lucius had taken his. Draco curled up on his side, facing them all; and with no prompting, he resumed his earlier efforts by pressing his lips to hers in a slow, pacifying, kiss.  


Lucius wasn’t fond of the idea of watching Draco during such an intimate moment, but if it made her calmer, he would suck it up.  


Sinking down the length of her body, Lucius melted into her warm back and, wedging a hand between them, carefully greased her divide. Using a finger-full of lube, he went inside and slicked her soft walls, preparing her thoroughly for what he hoped would be the smoothest penetration imaginable. When he was certain they were both sufficiently primed, he grabbed his agitated cock and touched his pulsating glans to her rosebud.  


“I’m not going in yet,” Lucius whispered in her ear. “I’ll wait until you tell me you want it.”  


Bumping her gently with his hips, he nudged her little hole over and over, driving them both mad with need, but also warming her to the sensation of having something moving between her cheeks.  


“Pull her leg toward you, Draco,” Severus murmured. “Lucius needs more room.”  


Draco lifted her leg and draped it over his hip. His long fingers grazed her thigh in a soothing stroke that flowed from flank to knee. Lucius couldn’t decide whether to jealously smack the boy’s hand away or just enjoy the results; that little grinding dance she was doing suggested she was on the verge of assent.  


“Okay,” she whispered. “I'm ready.”  


Lucius quickly wanked on a new layer of lube and pressed his bulging tip to her pucker. “I’m going to go very slowly. Tell me if anything gets uncomfortable.”  


"Rub her clit, Draco,” Snape added. “Light and easy. Make her want it.”  


Draco grinned, and his hand disappeared between her legs. Hermione’s back bowed in pleasure, which fortuitously spread her bum for easy penetration.  


Leaning forward ever so slightly, Lucius applied a modicum of pressure, and his head began to sink inside. Bloody. Fucking. Hell. He’d never been strangled by lust before. Keeping ahold of his shaft, he guided himself into her heat, marveling at the dichotomy between softness and strength that had enveloped his knob. It was like being crushed to death by velvet. Once the entirety of his corona had breached her tight ring, he stopped to let them both rest.  


“That’s it, princess. You’re past the widest bit. How does that feel?”  


She pulled her lips from Draco’s and panted. “It’s good. It doesn’t hurt. You’re really past the head? All the way?”  


He choked back his snort. “All the way. Are you ready for more?”   


“Yes.”  


Curling his hips, he gently plunged deeper. Inch by infinitesimal inch. Her rectum closed around him, hugging his throbbing flesh like an overzealous boa constrictor. _Nothing should feel this amazing_. _I’m hallucinating_. Being in Hermione's arse wasn’t like buggering Narcissa at all. Narcissa had done it grudgingly, only allowing him in on special occasions; whereas Hermione was opening up to him like a sunflower in the afternoon light.  


She was radiant.  


Once his dick had burrowed deeply enough to plot its own course, he let go and reached for her hand. Her palm pressed to his, and he locked his fingers around hers to buttress her bravery with his adoration. “Still doing all right? Tell me how it feels.”  


Draco let her breathe, and she squeezed Lucius's hand as if he were the one who needed reassurance. “I’m good. It feels kind of like the purple dildo, but . . . better. Way better. Warm and real.”  


Lucius smiled and kissed the back of her neck. “Surpassing your purple prick has always been a dream of mine.”  


The side of her smile was reflected in the mirror above them. “No competition.”  


“I am relieved,” he drawled, trying to sound calm despite his racing heart. “Do you want to try it a little deeper?”  


Her fingers cinched around his. “Yes please.”  


Lucius concentrated on the back of her neck as he gradually worked in another inch. He was almost completely inside her, but he didn’t know if she could take his entire length, so he was incrementally searching for her limit.  


When his pelvis was smashed against her bum, and her sphincter was pulsing around the base of his cock, he realized Snape had been stretching her internally as well externally. _Good show, old chap_. Lucius would thank him for such thoughtfulness later. “I’m in all the way, love. Should I let you rest?”  


“No, I’m okay,” she said with a sweet sigh. “Stay deep for a while though.”  


He knew what she meant. Rocking and thrusting were two very different things—especially during one’s maiden voyage. “Oh, I’m going to fuck you deep all right,” he growled in her ear. “Because I have every intention of leaving my seed so far up your arse that it’ll be dripping out of you for days to come.”  


She smiled and closed her eyes. “Thank you, sir.”  


“Look up, princess. See how pretty you are stuffed full of my cock.”  


Hermione’s eyes turned to the mirror above them, and she gasped, absolutely spellbound by the sight of them all in his bed.  


Draco grinned. “Wanna see something else?” On the heels of that teaser, he slid down to her breast, latching on and suckling like a hungry babe.  


She whimpered and grabbed hold of his hair, her jaw dropping in a silent scream.   


With Draco’s head was out of the way, she had an unobstructed view of the mirror before her. As did Lucius. He watched, mesmerized, as she panted and groaned to the beat of his pelvis. Her movements were becoming bolder, her hips squirming and her back arching. Lucius released her hand so he could reach her sex. It was time to give her an orgasmic double-helping.  


Middle finger skimming her slick nub, he picked up the pace of his thrusting. “I’m going to make you come harder than you ever have, princess. You're not going to think straight for a week. Tell me, do you come fast when you sit on your naughty stool?”  


Her pink complexion went crimson. “Yes, sir.”  


“Is it the excitement of having something in your bottom?”  


The blush scorching her cheeks was palpable. If she got any hotter, Snape would be able to simmer a cauldron on her face.  


“Mostly, sir.”  


“I’ve always wanted my own dirty princess . . . a witch who would beg me to take her arse.”  


Her breathing went ragged with want. “I’m your dirty princess.”  


Severus’s exhale of amusement tickled his neck.   


Smirking, Lucius pressed his lips to the back of her ear. “Yes, you are. Say it again.”  


“I’m your dirty little princess.”  


He stayed on her favorite spot, rubbing the side of her clit with a delicate touch. “That’s right. You’re ready to come now, aren’t you?”  


“Very soon, sir.”  


“Say my name.”  


“Lucius,” she moaned, her teeth bared in a grimace. “Please! Faster!”  


He went from a quick rocking to a short, gliding thrust, pulling out a little further and diving back in.  


“Yes!” Her fingers tore at Draco’s hair, but Draco didn’t make a peep of complaint.  


Lucius did his best to maintain the rhythm for her, finger and cock banding together to drive her over the edge.  


“Fuck!”  


He hissed as her sphincter seized him in a chokehold. The seismic convulsions pulverizing his cock were almost unbearable. Gnashing his teeth, he fought to withstand the manic strength of her arsehole. Fuck was right.  


Just as the contractions began to loosen their grip, his balls decided they’d had enough. He came hard, his body jerking uncontrollably, shooting his cream so far up her tract that that enema was going to seem like a weak stream in comparison. He shuddered as his cock thumped against her walls and the periphery of his vision sparkled with black stars. Closing his eyes, he ignored the encroaching blur of reality.  


When he had nothing more to give, he went still and buried his nose in her braid. “How was that, princess? Did I get you over your buggery fears?”  


She reached backward to touch his face. “You were perfect, Lucius. I loved it.”  


Smiling, he kissed her fingers. “Thank you,” he whispered. “You were perfect too, love. Your arse is magnificent.”  


“Are you ready for more?” Draco asked, sliding back up to kiss her. “You haven’t forgotten about the rest of us, have you?”  


Hermione laughed and stroked his cheek. “Of course I haven’t forgotten you.”  


Draco grinned. “Then roll over and let me see that bum. I’m about to burst.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leading note--In music theory, a leading-note (also subsemitone, and called the leading-tone in the US) is a note or pitch which resolves or "leads" to a note one semitone higher or lower, being a lower and upper leading-tone, respectively.  
> [If you'd like to see a video explanation of this, click here.](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=gM01663tNuE)
> 
> Chopin's Prelude in E Minor <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ef-4Bv5Ng0w>
> 
> "Take Me to Church" by Hozier. Written by Andrew Hozier-Byrne and released in 2013. The song was nominated for the Grammy Award for Song of the Year at the 57th Annual Grammy Awards, and has been certified five times platinum in the US. <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=MYSVMgRr6pw>


	37. Crescendo

37—Crescendo  


“I’m a back door man.”—The Doors  


(Draco)  


Draco matched the arc of her spine with his body, spooning her so closely he could feel their heartbeats battling for supremacy. Was hers racing from arousal or nerves? His was a bit of both. Which was why he’d chosen the most relaxing method of foreplay he knew.  


Sliding one hand around her hip, he hissed softly as her skin sizzled beneath his palm like a griddle. How could one little witch generate so much heat? His fingertips trailed up her side, climbing the ladder of her ribs until he reached her breast, where he discovered that her nipples had pebbled to precious stones. _Just for me_ , he thought, smiling to himself as he plucked one ruby nugget. _So pretty._ Following the shell of her ear with the tip of his nose, he breathed in the warm scent of her hair and neck. Even the smell of her sweat turned him on. He couldn’t get enough of her.  


“Are you sure you’re ready?” he whispered.  


Hermione snuggled back into him and ran her fingers down his arm until her hand covered his. “Yes.”  


Severus reached over Lucius to hand him the lube, his obsidian eyes piercing Draco, as if warning him to proceed with caution.  


Draco got the impression his father and Snape weren’t betting on him to take home the Most Valuable Player trophy that night. No doubt they’d already branded him the Achilles heel of the lineup.  


And they were right to worry. The mere _thought_ of entering her arse set his balls aquiver. Sweet Salazar, he'd almost come all over himself when he stuck his tongue up her bum. How the hell was he supposed to survive putting his cock in there? He _had_ buggered other witches; that wasn’t a lie. But there had only been two, and they had both done it loads of times, so it was no big deal to them. And then there were the nights he’d spent in Blaise’s bed. But Blaise fancied a bit of pain, so he probably wasn’t good practice either.  


That entire train of thought was moot. He couldn’t compare Hermione to his previous partners. She was in a league of her own. His father was right, she was a princess. A queen. His goddess. Draco worshiped her, and he wanted her to love everything he did to her, because, above all else, he wanted Hermione to love _him_. And he wanted to be worthy of that love.  


Which meant he needed to make his time with her count.  


He just needed to concentrate. And pray nothing tripped the hair trigger in his bollocks.  


Skating his hand down her body, Draco curved his palm around her mound and cupped her sweltering pussy. His middle finger slipped between her lips, and he found her engorged nubbin ready and waiting, standing out proudly as if demanding his attention. _You have it, my lady_. With the softest of touches, he traced its fleshy contours as he ground his aching erection against her bum.  


“I want this so much,” he breathed in her ear, and she answered with her hips, jamming them back hard enough to make him see stars. _Bloody hell!_ _Just give me a second, love._ _I know how much you like_ _a good buildup to the launch._ “You are so fucking beautiful. I was watching you in the mirror earlier, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as sexy as you coming with that nozzle up your arse.”  


She smiled, and Draco kissed her neck. _That’s it, just relax_. “You know what's even better than a bum full of water? A bum full of cum. Filled in triplicate. You’re looking forward to that, _aren’t_ you?” he asked with a knowing grin.  


Hermione laughed and ground said bum against his straining flesh. “I’m looking forward to it more than I can say.”  


Swallowing hard, Draco closed his eyes and tried to regroup. Did she have to be so damn wiggly at a time like this? “We’re all going to be mixed up together inside you,” he rasped. “You’ll be our own little cocktail.”  


"Literally.”  


Draco chuckled. “Well your tail can have my cock in about fifteen seconds. Right after I get us both nice and slippery. Reach back here and hold yourself open for me; show me how much you want it.”

Biting her lower lip in excitement, she did as he asked, palming her left cheek and spreading her arse like an angel. Wait. Did angels have bums? ‘ _This one does,’_ his cock assured him with a head-banging nod. ‘ _And she’s r_ _eady to_ _take_ _you to heaven with it_ _if you’d stop talking to yourself_ _for five seconds_ _.’_ Draco took that advice to heart and quickly wanked himself wet with a handful of slick gel before sinking down behind her for an in-depth analysis of the area. Her little pucker had pretty much snapped back to normal after her first ride, and Draco stroked its crinkled perimeter for a minute, marveling at the insane adaptability of the human body. It seemed unreal that she’d had anything bigger than a couple fingers in there. It was like a buttonhole begging for a banana to rip it apart at the seams. Lubrication would be key. Lovingly, he smeared a dollop of clear gel over the center circle, greasing her to a high shine. Her insides should be slippery enough from earlier.  


Bowing his head, Draco kissed each of her cheeks . . . and then her clenching fingers . . . and then the top of her crack. If she wasn’t all sticky with lube and cum, he probably would have just plunged his tongue straight up her arse. _Some other time. Maybe she’ll sit on my face tomorrow, and I’ll get her bum AND her pussy at the same time._  


_Mmmmmm_ _, tasty little—_   


_Gah! Pay attention, Draco! This is why you’re always losing control._   


_Right. Focus._ Steeling his resolve, he crawled back up behind her and got into place. His dick nestled itself in the valley between each hillock, and he had a flashback involving her couch cushions. Stupid gratifying upholstery. Using one hand to align his weeping glans with her slick rear entrance, Draco took a deep breath and then counted out the measured release of his exhale in the hopes that his heart rate would slow to a more manageable speed if he pretended to be calm. _Okay. Here we go. Do NOT come as soon as you’re in. Remember why we’re doing this._  


After kissing her neck in a final attempt to bolster his confidence, he resolutely set his jaw, preparing himself for the internal battle of wills he was about to unleash on himself. “Tell me if anything hurts, and I’ll stop.”  


She nodded.  


Draco knew he wouldn’t have much time once he was inside. Anticipation of such immensity—and ungodly  duration—would cut his usual time in half . . . if he was lucky. He needed to work fast.  


The pressure on his knob became overwhelming as he edged into her arse, and his neural capabilities were suddenly restricted to breathing and blinking, his brain short-circuiting from the rush of stimuli. As soon as his head slid past the ribbed ring of her sphincter, he let go of his dick and covered her pussy with his fingers, rubbing her entire vulva in a smooth circle to get her going. He knew what she liked.  


Her walls closed in on him like a rectal booby trap, and his abdominals contracted in an effort to rein in his panicked bollocks. If it were up to his testicles, he’d be shooting his load on the first incursion. But he refused to be the weak link in her chain of pleasure. Returning to his most basic skill set, Draco dialed in the fail-safe code. _Clit_ _clit_ _clit_ _. Circle two three four. Come on, love._ _Let it all_ _out._ Normally he would tease her until she couldn’t help climaxing, but drastic times called for drastic measures.  


He pressed his body against hers, and his cock slipped even deeper. _Oh gods!_ Every ridge and bump of her canal played over his swollen sex, squeezing out his sanity with each new inch. _Fuck_ _fuck_ _fuckity_ _fuck!_ This was madness. It was like sticking his hard-on in an alternate universe, one where all his Bacchanalian fantasies were compressed into the tight confines of her glorious arse. _FUUUUCK! Please come,_ _Hermione_ _!_  


Draco closed his eyes so he couldn’t see Snape and his father judging his every thrust. He couldn’t concentrate if he was worrying about what they might think of his technique. Or lack thereof.   


His fingertip skirted the swell of her clitoris, and meditating on its stiff, slick heat, he sought to sync his awareness with that blessed button _. Please, little clit, for the love of all that is holy, come for me. I’ll give you anything you want, just please come soon._  


The bed dipped, and Draco cracked open one eye to see Snape and Lucius trading places. Severus stretched out on his side and deftly drew her leg over his hip, which shifted Draco’s angle by opening her tract even more. Draco took advantage of the sudden accessibility and reached lower, tickling the rim of her vagina as he continued his clitoral two-step.  


Severus put his forehead against hers and skimmed a thumb over her slack mouth. “Is Draco fucking that arse nice and deep?”  


Her breathing stuttered out in a volley of gasping puffs. “Yes, sir.”  


“I can hear how wet you are. You’re ready to come again . . . _aren’t_ you?” It was obvious he knew exactly how close she was.  


“Almost, sir.”  


Snape covered her breast with one hand, idly scissoring her nipple between his fingers. “Can you feel how much Draco loves your arse?”  


She whimpered and nodded, and Draco hid his face in the back of her neck. He did love her arse, but the truth was he loved _her_. All of her.  


The trouble with that was that love was a dangerous thing—at least as far as Draco had seen. It could destroy you and leave you breathless in its absence. It could be used as a weapon, used for control, used to inflict pain. The Dark Lord had taught him the dangers of caring too much. Voldemort’s reign had trapped Draco in a constant emotional hell where he was tortured endlessly by the paralyzing uncertainty of what might become of his mother if any of them displeased that snake-faced fuck.  


Of course Hermione wasn’t Voldemort. If anything, she was the complete opposite. Her entire existence was devoted to helping others. Maybe that was why he loved her so much.  


If only he could tell her that. He wanted to, but it was a big step. A vulnerable step. And with his father and Severus involved, he wasn’t sure what was appropriate. Would she celebrate his confession, or would it throw their four-part balancing act into chaos? He didn’t want that. He’d gotten used to having Snape around, and he’d come to rely on the man’s austere constancy.   


But maybe Hermione really did love them all and she was just waiting for one of them to get the ball rolling.   


Or maybe she was worried that telling one of them would make the other two jealous. That sounded like her.  


_Oh gods, what if she tells one of them she loves them before she says it to me?_ What a horrifying thought. He could accept her loving them _too_ , but not more than him.  


Something throbbed in Draco’s chest—that same sweet ache that surfaced whenever he thought about a future with her. What if this was it? What if she was the one? What if he spent the rest of his life sleeping in the same bed with her? That was what he wanted: her arms around him every day, her kiss forever on his lips, her smile lighting up his life until the end of time. Draco squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed the flood of feelings those wishes churned up.  


Pressing his lips to her flushed skin, he took a deep breath and mouthed the words _I love you_ against the nape of her neck. It must have tickled, because she shivered and made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a moan. Encouraged by her response, Draco rubbed her clit a little faster and repeated his mute confession.  


"Come for Draco," Snape murmured. "Show him how much you love . . . his cock.”  


“Uh!” Her body jerked once in a fit of pre-orgasmic tension.  


“That’s it,” Snape purred. “Here, suck my fingers . . . good girl.”  


Her body began to tremble, and Draco held his breath. _I love you, Hermione. Please come for me._  


Her back arched so hard she pulled away from Snape, and her cranium pulverized Draco's forehead. The pulsing in her pussy dragged her anus along for the ride, pressurizing her tract to unheard of pounds per square inch. Each spasm locked his cock in place, holding him prisoner. But he didn’t want to be set free.  


His balls, however, saw their escape hatch and took full advantage.  


The semen ripped out of him with a velocity that bordered on painful, and his heart rushed to a pattering gallop as he struggled for air. Caught in a tempest of breathless explosions, his panting skipped over her neck, shaky and rough, deafening him with his own whimpered exhalations. Luckily, she was moaning so loudly it was doubtful anyone could hear him.  


Slowly, she drifted back down to earth, her body going still, and her cries fading to gasps of recovery. Draco basked in her afterglow, his arm wrapped around her waist to keep her close. His sac was empty, and he felt washed clean, renewed by relief.  


“That was bloody amazing, love,” Draco whispered.  


Her hand covered his, and she delicately stroked his fingers. “I totally agree. Thank you, Draco.”  


“The pleasure was all mine.”  


“No, it wasn’t,” she corrected with a cheeky grin.  


Snickering, Draco nuzzled the back of her ear. “I wish I could stay right here forever.”  


“It’s hard to kiss like this,” she noted scientifically.  


Snape shook his head in amusement. “Why don’t you uncouple and turn over. I’ll see how your bum is faring and get you ready. And Draco can start making up for all the kissing he’s missed due to positioning difficulties. How does that sound?”  


Hermione nodded vigorously, a smile spreading over her face. “Sounds lovely. What about you, Draco? Are you up for it, or do you want to take a breather?”  


“Definitely up for it,” he confirmed, his lips already working down the back of her neck. “But I think you’re going to have to push me out; I don’t want to hurt you, and feels like you’ve got me on lockdown.”  


Hermione laughed and did as he asked, but as soon he began to drag himself from her heavenly warmth, she groaned morosely. Draco had to concur—parting was such sweet sorrow. And a bit stickier than Shakespeare had let on.   


Draco helped her roll over, and when she was settled, he pulled her flush against his body, hooking her arm and leg over his side so she’d have something to hold on to when Snape went in for the kill. Hermione must have gotten a double-helping of Gryffindor bravery, because Draco would have been hyperventilating if it was his bum that was about to get annihilated by that beast. Wanting to allay any performance anxiety she might be feeling, Draco touched his lips to hers and proceeded to snog her senseless, hoping to take her mind off the approaching impalement.  


When Snape was ready, he didn’t demand Draco’s departure or even suggest he take a break. On the contrary, he cupped the back of his neck to hold him in place and murmured, “Keep going. Miss Granger, if it gets to be too much, just reach back and stop me.”  


Severus must have made his move then, because she whimpered and dug her nails into Draco’s back as if she were scared to death. Holding her tighter, he gently prodded her tongue with his, encouraging her to work out her fears with some oral action. That always calmed her down.  


Her respiration became staggered and short, as if she couldn’t inhale properly, so Draco drew back and met her frantic gaze. “It’s okay. Just slow down your breathing.”  


Hermione nodded, her eyes wide beneath her pinched brow.  


Snape’s hand glided down her waist in a soothing caress. “Do I need to stop, Miss Granger?”  


“No, sir. It’s just . . . tight.”  


Severus propped himself up on one arm and angled his head to kiss the side of her face. “We can stop any time.”  


“Will somebody please touch my clit?” She sounded distressed, as if she might explode unless somebody hit the pressure release button in time.  


Draco was more than ready to be of service. “How about if I _lick_ your clit?”  


A tentative smile pulled up the corners of her mouth, and the worry in her eyes shifted to curiosity. “Do you really think you're ready to be face-to-cock with Snape? It’s one hell of an experience.”  


Draco snorted and gave her a reassuring peck on the nose. “I think I can handle it. He’ll be all the way back in your arse. The worst I'll get is a chin full of bollocks.”  


“That can be intimidating too,” she countered.  


“I guess I’m about to find out. Wish me luck.”  


With a parting smirk, he slithered down her body, pausing for only a moment to taste both her nipples, a move that garnered a barrage of Hermione’s anxiety riddled giggles. As he licked a path down her belly, Snape lent a hand and pulled her top leg up and to the side to give him a clear shot. The sight was magnificent. Snape’s cock was about a third of the way in, and her pussy was so wet it looked as if it were encased in polished glass.  


Pressing his mouth to her musky nether lips, Draco gave her clit a fulsome kiss hello, and when his tongue snaked out to deepen the kiss, he groaned in delight. She was drenched. That little bundle of nerves wasn't just wet, it was saturated in layer upon layer of creamed honey. Holding open her glistening pink labia, Draco began slowly, licking all around, sampling every nook and cranny. He didn’t get too close to her entrance; she was right, Snape’s cock was far more intimidating at close range. Draco couldn’t imagine how her poor arse must be feeling. He was suddenly very impressed with Lucius’s ability to handle all that meat without loping around the manor the next day like a saddle-sore cowboy.  


In the hopes that his tongue would counteract any lingering resistance to Snape’s size, Draco set out on a marathon of licking and teasing and lapping and flickering. And he was making good progress. Until his jaw started to cramp. Merlin’s bloody balls! Was Snape still not inside her yet? Draco had been waiting for the gentle rock of her hips to know when Severus had succeeded in his anal endeavors, but no rocking ever came. She was incredibly still, her leg muscles intermittently trembling and flexing against his face.  


Pulling back for a progress report, Draco saw that Snape was about three-quarters of the way home. Hermione looked absolutely out of it; her gaze was unfocused, and her mouth hung loose as she blindly stared at the mirror.  


"Do you still want more?" Severus asked her quietly. “You’ve almost taken it all.”  


Her lower lip quivered. “I need to rest.”  


“Do you want me to pull out?”  


“No!”  


Severus smiled and stoked her neck. “Okay. We’ll stay right here. Keep eating her, Draco.”  


Draco didn't need to be told twice.  


She tasted bloody amazing, like a pussy lollipop. Honeyduke’s was missing out on an untapped goldmine. His lips and chin were coated in her glossy arousal, and he wondered if Snape had any recipes involving cream of cunny. Surely she paired well with chicken and white wine.   


Draco carefully suckled her clit, letting his lips do most of the heavy lifting so his tongue could take a much-needed timeout. When she reached down and raked her fingers though his hair, he hummed happily, which caused her hips to tick toward his face as if she were riding the waves of his vocal vibrations.  


Hopefully that meant she was loosening up.  


“That’s my good girl,” Snape murmured. “Take what you want.”  


Her muscles began to jitter, and her thighs turned to stone. Then relaxed. Granite. Relax. That seemed to go on for an eternity, her body oscillating between rigid flexion and total surrender.  


Her clit felt as if it had swollen to twice its usual size in his mouth. But that could have been due to his prolonged suckling. By all appearances she was primed for takeoff, but she seemed unable to hit her peak; she just kept falling back down the hill without ever reaching the summit.  


“What do you need, Hermione?” Snape whispered. “I know you’re close.”  


Instead of answering, she unexpectedly burst into tears.  


Severus and Draco both froze, and Draco looked up at her in disbelief. Hermione was passionate and emotional, but she wasn’t really a weeper. She was more of a fighter. He’d only ever seen her cry maybe three times in all the years he’d known her. “What’s wrong, love?”  


Her face crumpled, tears streaming sideways to the pillow. “I don’t know. This is really fucking intense.”  


Severus used the arm he had looped over her torso to pull her into his chest. “Are you in pain?”  


“Noooo-o-o-o,” she blubbered. “I just really need to come. It’s like the orgasm is trapped inside me, but I can’t get it out.”  


Lucius reached over Snape to rub her arm. “What do you want us to do, love?”  


“I just want to come,” she sobbed.  


Snape’s face wrinkled with worry, obviously concerned by the uncontrollable waterworks. Kissing her head, he asked, “Do you want me to clean off my dick and fuck your pussy?”  


“No,” she said firmly, wiping her eyes with one hand. “I want you to come in my bum. I’m crazy full, and it's pretty weird, but I definitely want you there.”

“All right,” Snape said in a no nonsense tone that took Draco back to his days at Hogwarts. “Then I’m going to make you come right now.”  


He sounded quite sure of himself, which eased Draco’s mind. Hopefully it eased Hermione's just as much.  


“Lucius, hold her leg for me so I can use my hand.”  


Lucius sat up and wedged his fingers behind her knee, spreading her open like a book. “Look at me, princess.”  


She turned her head and met his eyes.  


“You’re doing just fine. Having Snape fuck you _is_ intense. Just try to relax. Breathe slowly. Through your nose.”  


While her face was turned, Severus took advantage of her accessibility. The angle was odd, but he cupped her cheek and shifted her so he could reach her lips. Her panting picked back up, but Snape stayed the course, softly snogging her until she went quiet.  


Soon, she went beyond calm to pure mush, her whole body limp as a soggy carrot.  


Draco took that as his cue to return to Pussytown. She came fastest when she completely let go, and he knew that window of opportunity might slam shut if he didn't act fast. Licking up the sweet shine coating her deepest crevice, Draco headed straight for the jewel at the apex of her folds. He assumed Snape had begun to move, as her body had taken on a thumpy beat that only thrusting could induce.  


Snape must have stopped kissing her, because Draco could just make out the low rumble of his voice over the liquid serenade of her sex.  


“You’re ours now, little girl. Every inch of you. We’re going to take care of you from now on.”  


Hermione sniffled, but Draco couldn’t see her response with his face mashed to her muff.  


"Our cream is going to be dripping out of you all night,” Snape purred. “I know how much you love that. It’s the one thing that’s missing when you sit on the naughty stool, isn’t it?”  


Draco kept licking, but his brain was sidetracked by the idea of a naughty stool. What was a naughty stool, and where could he get one?  


“You love all that cum, don’t you, little girl? I know you do. After spankings, it's what you beg for most. Oh, but we forwent the spankings tonight, didn't we? Did you miss being over my knee? Is that why your pussy’s so anxious? Don’t worry, I’ll give you a nice slow good girl spanking tomorrow when you’ve calmed down. Would you like that?”  


Her breathy, “Yes, sir,” combined with a brutal shiver made it pretty clear how much she wanted it.  


“Tomorrow morning I’ll give your bottomhole a thorough inspection before the spanking, just to make sure everything's all right. And I think Lucius and Draco should be there to . . . assist. They’ll want to be certain you’re okay too . . . and I know they’ll enjoy witnessing the _full_ examination process. Which do you think will interest them more, seeing you bent over and spread for the rectal testing or hearing you plead for another vaginal probe?”  


Her body contracted, abdominals fluttering.  


“Mm! Yes, I thought you'd enjoy that. Tell me, is your juicy little pussy leaking all over Draco’s face?”  


“Yes, sir.”  


The sway of her hips became a buffered bump, which meant Snape was deep inside her, thrusting steadily.  


“Good girl. Is this how you like your arse fucked?”  


“Yes, sir,” she whimpered.  


“I’m going to speed up a bit now. Do you think you can take it?”  


“Yes, sir.”  


"Eat her pussy like you mean it, Draco. She’s there.”  


Draco sealed his lips around her pearl and lapped its swollen head with the flat of his tongue.  


“Hold on, little girl.”  


The increased pace knocked her into Draco’s face, and he felt a hand bracing the back of his head, but it was far too large to be Hermione’s. Snape? Oh, gods, definitely Snape. His strength brooked no resistance as he pressed Draco to drink from her spring, rubbing his open mouth into her salty, wet heat. Draco’s surprise quickly transformed to lust. He’d never been used as a sex toy before. It was actually rather exciting.  


Hermione emitted a brief shout, and her body trembled violently as she found her long lost climax. Their lioness roared in relief, “Uuuuuuuunnnnh!”  


Severus growled in reply, and Draco, who was becoming fluent in Snape, deduced that he had just crossed the point of no return.   


Throughout their orgasmic duet, Draco didn’t make a sound. He desperately needed air, but since he couldn’t breathe vulva, he was left struggling for oxygen. But he was willing to wait. She had to stop coming sooner or later, didn't she? He’d never heard her wail like that before. She was practically screaming. But any climax that had been building for that long was bound to be excruciatingly powerful. He hoped she survived.  


Severus grunted three more times, and Draco knew Snape had met his end. She was going to be in seminal heaven, which between the three of them, was a destination she knew well. Luckily for them she seemed to love it just as much as Snape had suggested. The only drawback was that, since Draco was the one spooning her all night, come morning, he was also likely to be creamed. But he could live with that. It seemed less disturbing when it was leaking out of her.  


Draco’s vision started to get sparkly, but he wasn’t going to be the one to break the magic. He’d sooner pass out.  


Thankfully it didn't come to that. She soon stilled, and Severus relaxed his grip on Draco’s head, saving him from death by snatch suffocation. Draco flopped onto his back and stared at the mirrored ceiling as he gasped in a lungful of fresh air. _Bloody hell, this is one debauched bunch._ The four of them were nothing but a jumble of naked body parts, writhing to a soundtrack of heavy breathing.  


Lucius let go of her leg and stroked her flushed cheek. “You’re burning up. I’ll get you some water, love.” He crawled to the end of the bed to get out around the mirrors.  


Snape kissed the top of her head and ran his fingers down her neck. “You _are_ hot. I’ll give you some air. Bear down for me.” There was short pause then Snape pressed his palm to her brow. “Hermione?”  


Draco looked up. “Is she asleep?”  


Snape tapped her cheek. “Hermione!”  


There was no response.  


Draco sat up, his stomach instantly knotting. “What’s wrong with her?”  


Severus held her hip and gently pulled out then rolled her to her back. “Hermione!” His fingers went to her throat to check her pulse. “She’s passed out.”  


Lucius came back just then with the water. “Did you say Hermione’s passed out?”  


“She’s not answering me, but her pulse is strong.”  


Lucius found his wand and waved it at the mirrors, collapsing them and sending them to rest against the wall. “What should we do?”  


"Maybe we shouldn’t have tried so much in one night,” Snape muttered to himself. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb as if he was trying to encourage her circulation. “Do you have any smelling salts?”  


Lucius huffed. “No, Aunt Pittypat, I do not have any smelling salts. Why would I? Just Rennervate her.”  


“Settle down,” Snape said, reading Lucius’s terse reply as worry rather than snark. “People faint for good reason. It’s best to let her body adjust on its own. I’m sure she’ll wake up any second. Let’s just get her some air.”  


Lucius’s face was a mask of sick worry, and Draco knew his own expression was an exact match. The room began to spin. He couldn’t breathe. Seeing Hermione sweaty and unconscious made him want to vomit. He gagged just thinking about it.  


“Get me a wet flannel,” Snape said calmly. “Let's cool her down. Perhaps she simply overheated.”  


Draco tumbled out of the bed and staggered toward the icy refuge of the bathroom. “I’ll find one.”  


He had to get out of there. Fast. The room was closing in around him.  


_Please be all right._   


He just made it to the sink before he began to quietly dry heave, his stomach too pitted and empty to offer up anything more than retching fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crescendo--gradually increasing in force, volume, or loudness.
> 
> "Back Door Man" by The Doors. Written by Willie Dixon in 1960 and released by The Doors in 1967. Originally released by Howlin Wolf, the song is considered a blues classic. The Doors recorded a rock version for their debut album.  
> In Southern culture, the phrase "back-door man" refers to a man having an affair with a married woman, using the back door as an exit before the husband comes home. (But I prefer my bootylicious interpretation.)  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=uk_ilymWo4s>
> 
> Aunt Pittypat: A character from Gone With the Wind (which, if you recall, they all watched recently) who's prone to the vapors and always has smelling salts on hand.


	38. Syncopation

38—Syncopation 

“You radiaaaaa-a-a-a-ate.”—Fleming and John 

(Hermione)  

Hermione smelled smoke and cracked open her eyes, only to find herself standing in the center of a parched and barren clearing, the fried grass crispy beneath her feet. Her eyes darted to her immediate surroundings. Fire. Everywhere. She was encircled by a high wall of flickering orange flames, the forest beyond wavering in the rippling heat. But then, with great relief, she saw that Lucius, Draco, and Severus were there too, just outside the demonic circle. 

Undaunted by the smoky peril, Draco smiled brightly and sprinted toward the firewall like a runaway freight train. Hermione held her breath, momentarily paralyzed by terror—speed couldn't render a man inflammable—but Draco emerged from the conflagration without a single mark. Totally safe and whole. She slapped at his clothes in search of lingering embers or injury but found nothing. Were the flames charmed? If they were, then why was it so bloody hot? The sweat rolled down her forehead in blinding streams of salt, and her clothes clung to her like a sticky second skin. 

Oblivious to her perspiration issues, Draco wrapped her in his arms and proceeded to snog her to the point of suffocation—but she’d never been happier to have an airway blocked. He was fine. More than fine. At least that’s what the bulge in his trousers seemed to indicate. She held him as tightly as she could, overcome by a mixture of relief, excitement, and joy. Her hand crawled up his shirt, and she dug her fingers into the sinewy muscles sheathing his back, reaffirming his physical integrity for her own peace of mind. His skin felt cool against her palm, like a burbling creek, which soothed her fevered body and dissipated some of the immense heat. 

Draco leaned back and, beaming at her as if he were high on Ecstasy Elixer, wove his fingers through her hair and drew her close so his baby blond fringe dusted her forehead. The tip of his nose touched hers, and he shouted over the roar of the flames, “I love you!” 

Hermione burst into a delirious grin, her heart bobbing up into her throat on a wave of elation. Was this really the time to spring something so monumental on her? Oh, sod it. There was never wrong time for love. “I love you too!” 

Lucius called out to her, and they both turned to see the two older Slytherins eyeing the inferno with growing apprehension. Grimacing with reluctance, Lucius squeezed his eyes shut and barreled through the flames as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from her any longer. Hermione grabbed at him, ready to extinguish his clothing, but once again, there wasn’t a single scorch mark. He wasn’t even pink. Lucius seemed just as surprised, patting at his chest and checking himself for injuries, but when he found none, he smiled gratefully and pulled her into his arms. 

“I missed you, princess.” 

Hermione stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “I missed you too. Is Severus coming?” 

Lucius glanced over his shoulder, and after a thoughtful pause, quietly replied, “I’m not sure.” 

Severus glared at the flames as if he’d been burned by them before and was plotting suitable retribution. He looked so alone, a solitary black figure contemplating the insurmountable obstacle that barred his path. Hermione’s heart ached for him. There was no reason for him to feel alone any longer.  

Determinedly, she stomped to the edge of the fire, prepared to pull him across if need be. Fucking hell! The flames definitely weren’t charmed. It was like standing at the gates of hell. But there was no way she was going leave Snape out there all by himself. He belonged with them. 

Hermione didn’t want to burn, but she knew Severus just needed a nudge—a sign that he was wanted. Needed. Taking a deep breath to steel her nerves, she thrust her hand through the flickering heat, and when it emerged on the other side, it felt as if she’d plunged into a tornado. She could barely keep her arm from being blown back across the line of fire. 

To her shock, the flames didn’t burn her. They couldn’t; she was the same temperature. Fighting the manic push and pull of the wind, Hermione extended her hand toward Snape, but for several seconds he just stared at it blankly, as if its purpose were a mystery. 

Then, finally, she felt his long fingers close around hers, and the howling gale grew so loud she sqinched her eyes shut and slapped her free hand over her ear to block out the roar.  

But throughout the tumult she never gave up her hold on Snape. 

When Hermione peeked out to see if he’d made it through the fire, she found herself staring at a ceiling. Lucius’s ceiling. Hadn’t there been a mirror there a moment ago? Or fire? 

Severus was at her side, wiping her forehead with something cold; and Lucius was on her other side, his usual pompous expression marred by concern. What was going on? And why was she so hot? 

“There you are,” Snape murmured. 

Everything was too loud. And bright. She flinched away from the glare of the room. “What happened?” 

“You passed out. You’re all right now.” 

_Tell that to the rotating room._

“I’ll get her some chocolate,” Lucius volunteered. 

Severus wiped her brow again. “We’ve got some water here whenever you want it.” 

She _was_ awfully thirsty. Parched actually. Hermione rubbed her face to wipe away the electric cobwebs of unconsciousness that still tickled her skin. 

"Here, love," Lucius said, tucking something into her palm. “You’ll feel better once we get some chocolate into you.” 

Hermione peered at her hand and, after identifying the nugget, took a small bite. Closing her eyes, she sucked on the rich mouthful and waited for her head to clear. What a strange night. She’d never passed out from shagging before, and she couldn’t say she was overly fond of sexual syncope. And why did she keep remembering a fire? Was her brain overheating? 

As the throbbing in her skull faded, she peeked open her eyes to see if things had stopped spinning. The room seemed less mobile, but Severus and Lucius were studying her closely, making her feel like an animal exhibit at the zoo. 

“Is it too bright in here?” Severus asked. 

“Yes,” she whispered. 

With a wave of his hand, the room dimmed to just 1000 watts. Much better.  

“Could I have that water now?” 

Severus turned to the bedside table for the glass. “Are you sure you’re ready to sit up? There’s no rush.” 

“I’m really bloody thirsty,” Hermione croaked. _Wait, something’s not right here_. She suddenly realized her sweetest Slytherin was missing. “Where’s Draco?” 

They looked around, and Severus gestured toward the shadowed sitting area, where the light from the remaining candles was too dim to reach. “He’s right here, waiting for you to recover.” 

Hermione squinted into the semi-darkness; her eyes weren’t focusing right. Why wasn’t Draco with her? He was always the first one holding her hand and kissing her better. Not that Severus and Lucius weren’t doing a fine job, she was just confused by Draco’s absence. 

Lucius helped her sit up, and Severus handed her the glass, hovering by her side to make sure she didn’t drop it. Hermione wasn’t going to drop it; she might, however, chug it till she burst open like a fire hydrant. The first sip was nothing short of H2Oh-my-God! Her throat felt like sand. She wasn’t sure if she was drinking or absorbing. Or maybe it was turning to steam before it reached her stomach. Lifting her other hand, she rubbed her bleary eyes as she took another deep gulp. 

Snape braced her back with one arm and used his thumb to massage her spine in a slow circle. “We should have been more careful. Maybe three in a row was a bit optimistic for your first time.” 

Her lips curved up into a weak smile. “Are you barking mad? That was glorious. I honestly don’t know what happened. I was fine after I came.” 

Severus held the glass for her while she took another bite of her chocolate. “What’s the last thing you remember?” 

“Smiling.” 

Lucius sputtered out an unexpected laugh and stroked her face with the backs of his fingers. At least one of them thought she was funny.  

Severus still looked deathly serious. He folded the flannel and placed it behind her neck. “And you felt totally fine then?” 

“Amazing,” she assured him and then rubbed her eyes again. 

“Does your head hurt?” Severus asked, sounding concerned. 

“Not anymore, but my vision’s all wonky.” 

“What do you mean?” He gently turned her chin toward him. “Look at me.” 

Hermione met his pitch-black gaze, blinking hard to dispel the floaty haze surrounding his outline. 

“Lucius, get my wand. I want to make sure she’s all right.” 

Lucius handed it over, and Hermione waited, nibbling her chocolate while Snape cast several diagnostic charms at her head. They were all clear. 

Severus brushed the cool pad of his thumb along her cheekbone and tipped his head to one side as if he needed a new perspective on the situation. “I can’t find anything wrong. What are you seeing?” 

“You’re all glowing.” 

Snape’s eyes shifted over to Malfoy, and she saw a flash of solicitude pass between them. 

“Do you mean just _us_ or everything in the room?” 

She looked around. "Just you three." 

“Glowing how?” Lucius asked, a perplexed furrow crinkling his forehead. 

“Like . . . medieval paintings of halos, expect around your whole body.” 

Severus leaned in, and after a full minute of visual scrutiny yielded no answers, he murmured, “Don’t blink,” and held his wand to her temple. 

She knew he was searching her mind, rifling through her memory to see if there was some trauma she’d forgotten while she was unconscious, but he must not have come across any pertinent information, because he withdrew with a disappointed shake of his head. 

“I can’t find anything strange. Do you feel sick?” 

“Not at all. I feel fine now.” 

“Can you tell me more about what you're seeing?” 

She sighed. That was hard to describe. “You're all a bit different, but it's kind of like when a prism shines on the wall. You know, sort of dancey and shimmery.” 

“Describe what you see around me.” 

Studying the borealis surrounding his head and shoulders, she slowly replied, “Wavy colors. Silver. Shiny. But there’s a lot of black in there too.” 

“Sounds like you,” Lucius quipped. 

“What about Lucius?” Severus asked, ignoring the jibe. “Is he the same color?” 

“No. He’s . . . dark red,” she reported after checking Lucius’s palette. 

“What about Draco?” 

Hermione could just barely pick up a glimmer in the distance, but the poor lighting made it difficult to see. “I’m not sure. Hold on.” 

She started to climb out of bed, but Severus and Lucius restrained her. 

“Hold on a second,” Lucius admonished. “Maybe you shouldn't be walking around just yet.” 

“Don’t be silly. I’m fine,” she protested. “Let me go.” 

After a silent eyeball conversation over her head, they both reluctantly released her, and Hermione patted their hands reassuringly before wiggling down to the end of the bed. Draco was silent in his chair, watching her approach; she could see the shine of his eyes reflecting the guttering candles, but the rest of him was shrouded by shadow. 

Easing off the bed to test her legs for durability—as falling on her face would have seriously undermined her earlier insistence on independence—Hermione carefully padded across the room and climbed into Draco’s naked lap. 

No longer obscured by darkness, the pained expression twisting his features became immediately visible, stopping her cold. He looked miserable. And nauseated. “Draco,” she whispered. “What is it? Are you all right?” 

He shook his head. 

“What’s wrong, love?” 

“I feel sick.” 

“Sick? What kind of sick?” she asked as she pressed a hand to his brow. “I’m sure Severus has something you can take; I’ll get it for you.” 

Draco tipped back his head and, closing his eyes, blew out a tense exhalation through his pursed lips. “Nervous sick,” he whispered. “I thought you were never going to wake up.” 

Hermione glanced over at Snape and Lucius; they were watching her but talking quietly between themselves, unaware of Draco’s tenuous emotional state. Draco was obviously trying to hide his reaction from them, and she didn’t want to out him by making a scene. Smoothly sliding her arms around his stiff shoulders, Hermione hugged him as tightly as she could and whispered in his ear, “It’s all right. I’m fine now. I’m sorry I scared you.” 

Draco buried his face in her neck, his breath breezing hard and fast over her skin. She rubbed the back of his head to calm him, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. His shoulders heaved, and she felt the wet warmth of tears splatter her skin as he began to silently cry. 

“Oh God, Draco,” she whispered, hugging him tighter. “It’s okay.” 

She hadn’t seen Draco cry in ages. And never sober. Despite her surprise, she understood. His most debilitating moments of misery all hailed from the same painful source. Hermione put together the pieces of the puzzle she’d been given and winced at the picture presented. Seeing her passed must have brought back all the memories of his mum during her final days. Unconscious in her hospital bed. Never to return. _Merlin’s buggering bollocks, I probably scared the shit out of him._

“Please don’t ever leave me,” he rasped. 

“I won’t,” she promised. “Not ever. I’m never letting you go.” 

Draco grasped her shoulder as if he could maintain his composure if he just held her tightly enough. Hermione’s heart went out to him. She’d been in the same frame of mind after the final battle, clinging to everyone who’d made it through alive as if she could keep them from disappearing if she just held on a little tighter, a little longer.  

Wiping the tears from his face with her fingertips, she kissed his damp cheek. Who would have ever guessed that the pompous git she'd met her first day at Hogwarts would grow up to be the most heartbreakingly sensitive man she knew. Even though she felt awful for him in that moment, she was amazed by the changes he'd made in his life. 

Lucius's snide voice cut the room like a dagger. “Are you _crying_? For Merlin’s sake, son. Grow a pair and get ahold of yourself. I thought—“ 

Hermione whipped her head around and fixed him in a furious glare. As soon as the heat of her anger hit him, he fell silent. The room was suddenly devoid of all sound. Draco had cringed away from the verbal attack, but she blocked him from any more barbs with the protection of her body. 

“I can’t believe you, Lucius,” she hissed. “Draco can feel any damn way he pleases. And since he’s the only one of you with the balls to cry in front of me, maybe _you’re_ the one who needs to sac up.” 

Snape and Lucius both gaped at her in shock. 

“You didn’t mock me for crying earlier, so why would you say such a thing to your only son? We’re both human beings, and our sex organs do not preclude or absolve our tears. Don’t you ever say anything like that ever again.” 

Lucius blinked, his face frozen in stunned bewilderment. Severus glanced at his friend, and she knew he was wondering when Lucius would explode. Hermione steeled herself for just such a battle. 

But Lucius didn’t explode. He merely sat back against the pillows, a thoughtful look of befuddlement tilting his features at an odd angle. 

Hermione kept one eye on him as she pulled Draco in for another hug. “It’s all right, love” she murmured. “You can be scared and sad all you like. You can feel any way at all.” 

He panted against her neck, his arm clenched into a rictus of strength so she was trapped against him. 

“You are such a sweet boy,” she cooed, kissing his cheek. “Would you like to go to bed now? You’ll feel better after a good night's sleep.” 

He nodded. 

“Okay. I’ll take you. Come on.” 

Draco wiped his face, and she took his hand, pulling him out of the chair as she rose from his lap. 

“Don’t worry about them,” she said under her breath. 

Draco kept his eyes down, but he followed her willingly, his hand gripping hers so she wouldn't let go.

When they reached Draco’s side of the bed, Hermione calmly addressed Severus and Lucius, “I hope you’re both tired, because we’re ready to go to sleep.” 

Severus said nothing, but he made way for Lucius to return to his usual spot. Lucius budged over, still watching her with an expression of ponderous confusion, and when they were back in their regular places, Hermione climbed up and pulled Draco in after her.  

“Come on, love. Get under the covers.” 

Draco had a similar dazed look to match his father’s, but he did as she said and slid in next to her. Hermione got him settled then drew the sheet around his chest and pecked his lips. “There,” she said, patting his heart. “You can rest now. We’ll talk about this tomorrow if you like.” 

He nodded again, his shoulders incrementally relaxing. 

Placing a light kiss to the tip of his nose, she whispered, “Good boy,” in his ear. 

Turning, Hermione eyed Lucius and Severus. She hadn’t snapped at Snape, so he had no reason to be wary, yet she couldn’t help noticing he appeared mildly flummoxed. But maybe also a little amused. 

“In answer to your earlier question, Draco’s color was bright yellow, like a lemon. But . . . now that he’s calmed down, it’s shifted to a pleasant green.” 

Snape’s eyes shot over to Draco, and she could see the wheels in his head churning to life. Leaving him to his musings, she reached out to Lucius, resting the back of her hand on Snape’s ribs. 

Lucius stared at her as if he didn't understand the gesture, so Hermione wiggled her fingers until he finally got the hint and placed his hand atop hers. 

Smiling softly, she stroked his fingers. “I care about all of you very much, and I would fight to defend each of you. I’m not angry with you. I know what kind of man you really are. But if I’m going to live in this house, no one’s emotions will be ridiculed. Not Draco’s. Not yours. Not Snape’s. Not mine. If we’re going to make this work, we have to be honest with each other, and that means we can't hide how we feel. I know that’s harder for you and Severus, and I’m willing to be patient. Do you _want_ to be honest with me?” 

For a moment his face lost all life, and she could see the hesitancy dulling his grey eyes like storm clouds. But to his credit, he nodded. 

Hermione squeezed his fingers. “I’m glad.” Climbing over Severus, she wrapped her arms around Lucius and pressed her lips to the side of his neck. “You’re not a monster, Lucius. I would never feel this way about a man who didn’t have a good heart. Don’t forget how much I need you.” 

He suddenly engulfed her in a desperate embrace, his body shuddering, and his exhalations rough with restrained emotion. “You continue to amaze me, princess. Or should I call you warrior princess now? I thought you were going to set me on fire with your glare earlier.” 

Hermione kissed his cheek. “Never. Just because I get upset doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring about you. You and Severus and Draco make me happier than I’ve ever been. I’m not going to give that up without a fight. I know we don't always talk about it, but I care about you and think about you all the time. All of you. You’re never not in my heart.” 

She could hear him swallowing, and the muscles in his neck bulged as his jaw clenched. He was eating his feelings again. She wished he'd just let them out before he choked. 

“Thank you, princess,” he whispered. 

Hermione kissed him for real then. Deep and slow. He returned the tenderness, his tongue no longer dueling with hers but dancing. Dipping. Flickering. Rolling. She sighed into his mouth and carded her fingers along the roots of his hair to pull him closer. She wanted him to feel just as safe as Draco did. He deserved a good night's sleep too. 

When they finally pulled apart, they were both out of breath, and her lips were starting to swell. Caressing the line of his jaw, she brought his face to hers so she could nuzzle his adorably aristocratic nose. “Goodnight, Lucius. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

He turned his head to press a solemn kiss to her palm. “Goodnight, Hermione.” 

He helped her crawl back over Snape, and when she’d returned to her usual spot, she shifted about until she was face to face with the pale Potions master. “That all goes for you too; I know you were listening.” 

His brooding onyx eyes never left hers. “Hermione the lionhearted. You’re so quick to get over my knee and suck my cock, I’d started to forget that you’re not all submission and embarrassed blushes.” 

Smiling, she nodded at his assessment. “I guess I’m a whole lot of things. But it’s all me. You can’t have some without the other.” 

The corner of his lips ticked up on one side. “No, you can’t.” 

“But I know you know how much I need you. I love the way you make me blush.” 

His half-smile pulled to a smirk. “And I love seeing it. Was that enough honesty for one night?” 

Hermione laughed. “From you it was an outright confession. I’m proud of you.” 

Snape’s eyes blustered with consternation, and she guessed by his reaction that that wasn’t a phrase he heard too often. It seemed to really throw him. So much so that he changed the subject. 

“If your vision isn't better by tomorrow, we’ll take you to a specialist.” 

“Do you really think it might not go away?” 

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t worry about it. If it’s not hurting you, then I see no cause for alarm.” 

Hermione leaned in to kiss him, but he suddenly jerked back, peering into her face so intently her stomach swooped with unease. Catching her chin in his hand, he turned her head back and forth. 

“What?” she asked. 

“I thought I saw something.” 

“Where?” 

“In your eyes. It must have just been a trick of the light.” He didn’t sound entirely convincing, but when he touched his lips to hers, she silenced her misgivings in favor of a much-needed goodnight kiss. 

Severus initiated kisses so infrequently it was like a sighting of Halley’s comet. But in one night he’d done it not once but twice—really kissed her—lips and tongue joining together to lay waste to her brain. 

Snape pulled back, and somehow, that same devious smirk still stained his lips. “Goodnight, Miss Granger.” 

"Goodnight, _Professor Snape_.” 

“Don’t get smart with me, little girl. I haven’t forgotten your spanking tomorrow.” 

“I haven’t either,” she assured him. “No backsies.” 

“No _whatsies_?” 

Draco laughed, and she was glad to hear it. 

“She means you can’t go back on your word.” 

Snape arched a brow as if offended. “A promise is a promise.” 

“Good,” she said brightly, pleased that her fainting spell hadn’t cancelled the morning spanking. It was her favorite way to begin the day. Snuggling down next to him, Hermione twisted around and rolled onto her back. “Come on, Draco. I know what makes you feel better.” 

Draco rested his head on her heart, and Hermione wrapped her arm round him as she reached over Severus to hold hands with Lucius. His fingers wound through hers, and she sighed contentedly as a fuzzy cloak of peace bundled her heart in a warm hug. Closing her eyes, she smoothed her thumb along Draco’s shoulder in a drowsy tick tock to help him sleep. The tendons in Snape’s arm shifted in a similar rhythm, and she found the slight rocking to be a potent relaxant. 

It took her a minute to realize he was stroking Draco’s head. 

And Draco hadn’t flinched an inch. 

A secretive smile stole over her face. What an interesting turn of events. The kind of interesting that made her want to pin them together and hump something hard. 

How long had that been going on? Was there something sexual happening between them, or was Snape just being nice? Either way, it was incredibly touching. And therapeutic. Severus was finding a home for all his repressed emotions, and Draco was getting acceptance and affection from a man who could have been his father. Too bad it wasn’t _actually_ his father. 

Still, it was a big step forward for both of them. In fact, once she gave it some thought, the whole night had been rather cathartic. For everyone. She’d have to think about that more in the morning, because her eyes absolutely refused to remain open a second longer. 

Hermione quickly drifted into a deep sleep, where she dreamt of a three-headed snake who valiantly protected her garden. Despite the rarity of three-headed serpents, she was neither frightened nor surprised by its presence. 

Snakes were a good omen in any garden. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Syncopation --In music, syncopation involves a variety of rhythms which are in some way unexpected which make part or all of a tune or piece of music off-beat. More simply, syncopation is a general term for "a disturbance or interruption of the regular flow of rhythm": a "placement of rhythmic stresses or accents where they wouldn't normally occur. --source: Wikipedia
> 
> "Radiate" by Fleming and John.  
> Written by Fleming McWilliams and John Painter (who are husband and wife) and released in 1999 on their album The Way We Are.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=P9Srb1Nz7Bs>


	39. Accompaniment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody. I've got two chapters for you, but I won't put up 40 till tomorrow.

39—Accompaniment

“I said, Doctor (Doctor), Mr. M.D. (Doctor), now can you tell me, tell me, tell me what’s ailin’ me?”—The Young Rascals

(Severus) 

Severus awoke the next morning with his arm trapped beneath both Hermione and Draco, his fingers tingling with numbness. Turning, he found Lucius watching him, Malfoy’s grey eyes still half-lidded with sleep’s serenity.

“How long have you been awake?” Snape whispered.

“Just a few minutes.”

“What are we going to do with her today?”

“You mean if her eyes aren’t back to normal? I know a private mediwitch in London. We could take her there. She’d be discreet.”

“What do you think happened to her last night?”

“I’ve no idea. What do _you_ think happened?”

Severus had some theories, but he was loath to jump to any depressing conclusions. “I couldn’t say. Don’t you find it odd that she says she felt completely fine beforehand?”

“She was probably swimming in endorphins. Perhaps she simply missed the warning signs.”

Snape had thought of that, but it didn't ease his conscience to hear Lucius validate his reasoning. “I pushed her too hard.”

“Don't be ridiculous; she loved it.”

“I should have been watching out for her.”

Lucius pursed his lips into a thin line then shook his head. “Don’t start blaming yourself, Severus. We were all there. And you took excellent care of her. You’re not psychic—you couldn’t have predicted that.”

"Do you think we should stop fucking her all at once?”

Hermione’s eyes popped open. “That’s a horrible idea.”

“You heard the lady,” Lucius said with a chuffing laugh.

Shifting around to see her better, Severus motioned for her to sit. “Come up here, Miss Granger. How are you feeling? Still seeing the glow?”

She looked at them both and nodded. “It’s just the same.”

“But you feel all right?”

“Well, my bladder’s ready to explode, but other than that, I’m fine.”

Draco lifted his head with a deep yawn. “How’s your bum feel?”

“Like I was in a rear-end collision with a Firebolt,” she said, smiling as if that wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

Severus put one hand to her chin and turned her head, searching her eyes for any abnormalities. “I’ll see to your arse in a minute.”

This time it was unmistakable. There was a strange metallic glint in her irises. It looked like the burst of gold in the striated layers of tiger’s eye, flashing when her face was at certain angles. Either it had become more pronounced while she slept, or the dim lighting of the previous night had hidden its brilliance. Severus kept his face impassive to hide his anxiety, but he didn’t think aureate irises sounded like a good sign. Something had happened to her. Possibly something permanent.

“I think we should go have you checked out today. I want to make sure you’re really as healthy as you feel.”

“Where are we going?”

“London,” Lucius told her. “Veronique will like meeting you. Are you up for an adventure?”

“What do you mean an adventure?”

“I mean Veronique is . . . very _thorough_. And . . .”

“Handsy,” Draco finished for him. “There’s a reason father’s so fond of her ‘healing.’”

Lucius didn't appear offended by the assertion; he merely shrugged one shoulder and smiled. “Draco used to pretend to be sick so she’d give him a good going over.”

“I learned a lot from those checkups,” Draco quipped.

Severus wasn't amused. “We have to take her to someone good, not your medi-lust.”

“She’s the cleverest mediwitch I know,” Lucius countered. “Brilliant really. She’s been summoned all over the world. If there’s something wrong with Hermione, Veronique will find it.”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely.”

“Very well, but if she doesn’t impress me, we’re taking her someplace else.”

“Of course,” Lucius said dismissively, confident his choice was above reproach.

“You’d better put on clean knickers, love,” Draco teased, kissing her neck as he sat up. “And wash away all that cum from last night. She might want to put you in the stirrups.” His brow bounced up and down in a rakish dance.

Rather than responding with denial or disgust, Hermione just looked confused. “To check my eyes? I don’t think she can see them from down there.”

“You never know what Veronique is going to do,” Draco said. “Better safe than sorry.”

Severus ran his hand down her back. “Go ahead and use the loo. I’ll check your bum as soon as you're done and heal anything that's too uncomfortable.”

“The exam before the exam?” Hermione asked with a suggestive grin. When he gave her a small smile in return, she leaned in, pecking him on the lips, and as she drew back, the gold made another appearance, spiking through her gaze like lightning—there one second and gone the next.

“I know how much you enjoy a good test,” he said evenly, affecting the blankest countenance in his repertoire to disguise his worry.

“And everyone will be there to see?”

Severus had momentarily forgotten their discussion from the night before. Trust her to remind him. Who knew they’d snagged such an exhibitionist? “That was the deal. Go on. Get that bladder empty so you can lie across my lap without wetting the floor.”

Squealing in excitement, Hermione bounded from the bed and raced for the bathroom, clearly eager for the inspection to begin. Severus watched as her bum disappeared through the door with a jaunty jiggle, his thoughts torn between arousal and concern. 

He wouldn’t mention the eye condition to anyone else yet. 

Not until he had some idea what they were dealing with.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Utilizing the convenience of side-along Apparition, the four of them relocated to a deserted alley on the outskirts of an upperclass London neighborhood. It wasn't near Diagon Alley, so Severus hoped they wouldn’t run into anyone they knew; but to play it safe, Draco was holding Hermione's hand while Severus and Lucius followed from a safe distance. If anyone did see them, they needed to maintain the illusion of Draco’s sole involvement with her.

In an effort to blend in with the surroundings, the three men had stepped outside their comfort zones and donned Muggle clothing. Severus and Lucius had opted for lightweight linen trousers and cotton dress shirts, but Draco had gone for affluent-casual in his khaki shorts and white polo shirt. Forgoing her usual denim shorts in favor of something that would be easy to remove, should she be asked to disrobe, Hermione had chosen a long violet peasant skirt and paired it with a thin camisole. Spaghetti straps again. No bra. All he could see were her pointy little tits struggling to saw their way out of that too tight prison. Even if the mediwitch didn’t grope her, this was going to be the most lascivious office visit in the history of medicine.

They started down a tree-lined street, but Hermione froze after a few steps, looking around as if she’d been there before, staring at the houses and then turning to watch a man jog by with a corgi.

Lucius and Severus hurried forward to find out what was wrong.

“It’s not just you three,” she explained in a tense whisper. “The colors are on everyone. Even the dog. And it’s not as strong, but the plants too. The trees.”

All of Snape’s suspicions coalesced into one certainty. “And they’re all different?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“All right. I’m sure the mediwitch will be interested to hear that. Let’s keep moving.”

He wanted to rub her back, but physical contact was best avoided in public, so Severus jammed his hands into his pockets to keep them occupied. They walked to the end of the block, and Draco steered her to the house on the corner, where he rapped the door with a sharp tattoo of his knuckles. A woman in mediwitch robes answered, smiling brightly at Draco, and when she spotted Lucius and Severus coming up the walk, she welcomed them in with a warm wave. The woman shook Hermione’s hand, and Draco made the introductions as Lucius and Snape slipped through the front door.

The interior had the discombobulated feel of a home that had been converted into an office. A very eclectic office. There were artifacts and books covering every inch of visible space—as if an archeologist and librarian had exploded all over the walls.

The mediwitch had glossy black hair, which she'd pulled back in a smart bun, lending her a more studious profile. Facially, she was stunning, an exotic blend of European and middle-eastern descent. He could see why Lucius was so keen to play doctor with her. Her robes were open, and she wore a formfitting grey pencil skirt and a blue silk blouse underneath. She looked professional. But appearances could be deceiving.

“This way to my office,” she said as she led them through a maze of short halls. “There’s more light back here in the morning, and I like to be able to see my patients.”

They entered the “office,” which was most likely a renovated study. There was indeed an exam table, but it was folded flat, the stirrups hidden. After Draco’s comment that morning, Severus couldn’t help picturing Hermione spread out on it. Naked. Legs apart. Pussy gleaming. How distracting.

Veronique beckoned Hermione to one side. "Please, Miss Granger, come over here by the window so I can see you properly.”

She stood Hermione in a block of sunlight, while Lucius, Draco, and Severus meandered toward the clearest expanse of floor space. All they could do was wait and watch. There wasn’t really anyplace to sit except the exam table and the little rolling stool, but they were too keyed up for sitting anyway. They’d stand.

Veronique slowly circled Hermione, peering at her as if searching for a clue. After two laps, she stopped and leaned in, sniffing near Hermione's shoulder. Hermione looked at her as if she were mental, which made Veronique laugh.

“What _have_ you three been doing to this poor girl?”

“Are we that obvious?” Lucius asked, his tone more prideful than contrite.

The mediwitch chuckled under her breath and went about her business. “Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on while I run some diagnostic charms,” she said to Hermione. 

“Um . . . sure,” Hermione muttered. “Well . . . ever since last night, I’ve been seeing strange colors around people. When we were coming here this morning, I found out I can see it around animals and plants as well.”

Veronique was concentrating on her charm casting, but she nodded. “Since last night. Did something happen last night that might have been a factor in this new talent?”

Hermione blushed. “It happened after we . . . were . . . you know . . . together.”

The mediwitch paused. “What, all four of you?”

“They each took me one after the other,” Hermione explained, he voice dropping to a whisper.

Veronique’s black eyebrows lifted, and she glanced over at them then back at Hermione. “I’m surprised you were able to drag yourself out of bed this morning. Was that the first time you’d all been together?” she asked as she returned to her examination.

“Oh no,” Hermione assured her. “Not at all.”

“Did anything seem different?”

“Uh . . . ” Hermione looked at them for help. “It was . . . different. They all sort of . . . buggered me.”

A smile of understanding settled over Veronique’s lips. “That was the first time?”

“Yes.”

“Ever? You’ve never done it with anyone else?”

“No, it was the first time with real live people. Toys are a whole other story.”

Veronique laughed heartily. “Yes, they are. Were you nervous?”

“Yes. But after . . . a few . . . orgasms, I was okay.”

“Orgasms _are_ a potent remedy,” the mediwitch confirmed. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened. I can’t find anything with the diagnostic charms, so I’ll try a whole body scan. This might tickle.”

Hermione nodded in assent and started on her story, relaying the night’s events as factually as possible, starting with the enema and finishing with the explosive orgasm and fainting at the end. As the story unfolded, Snape surreptitiously spied on his cohorts. Hearing Hermione talk about having her arse penetrated had inspired a rather noticeable bulge in Draco's shorts. Lucius was also hard but doing a much better job of hiding it. If Severus wasn’t mistaken, Hermione was equally turned on, and Veronique was breathing a little heavier.

The mediwitch slowly ran her wand over every inch of Hermione, muttering a constant spell under her breath that rose and fell like a song. Lucius hadn’t been lying about her being thorough. But had she even looked in Hermione’s eyes? Had she seen the gold foil?

When the scan was over, the black-haired witch shook her head. “As far as I can tell, you’re healthy as a Hippogriff. I’d like to run some more specific tests now that you’ve told me what brought it on.”

“Okay,” Hermione said cautiously. “What kind of tests?”

“I’d like see if that gold in your eye is triggered by arousal.”

Hermione was temporarily speechless. Her mouth opened several times, but no sound emerged. Severus prepared to request a short break so she could get her bearings, but Hermione found her voice before he could speak.

“How are you planning to test that, and what gold in my eye?”

Veronique took Hermione's hand and held it reassuringly. “Why don’t we just start with you touching yourself while I watch your eyes. And the gold is . . . hard to describe. I take it you haven’t looked in the mirror much this morning.”

“I did,” Hermione protested. “I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I checked my clothes.”

Veronique smiled. “You saw but you didn’t really look. I’ll find you a mirror before you leave so you can see for yourself. I’m surprised one of your _partners_ didn’t notice it.” She shot them a disapproving look over her shoulder.

“I noticed it last night,” Snape confessed quietly. “It’s become much more pronounced since then.”

Huffing in exasperation, Hermione gave him a sharp look. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to scare you. You needed your rest. And there was a good chance it might’ve been gone by the morning, so I thought it best to just wait.”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Veronique told her. “It’s not causing you any harm, and there's absolutely no damage to your eyes. I’ve checked three times. Now, would you like to sit down, or would you prefer to remain standing?” 

Hermione bit her lip and gave the table a wary glance. “I guess that depends on how, exactly, you’d like me to touch myself.”

“You seem nervous. Why don’t you sit over here and try to relax.”

Hermione followed her over to the exam table, and the metal steps automatically slid out for her to climb up. Perching herself on the edge, she neatly folded her hands in her lap but then a second later began to wring them them like a deranged washer woman.

Veronique smiled gently and stilled Hermione's hands with her own. “Please don't be frightened. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Just try touching yourself over your clothes until you start to get wet.” She gestured toward the men and asked, “Do you want me to send them out?”

“No!”

Laughing, the mediwitch tried again, “Do you want me to call them closer?”

“Maybe.”

"All right, you three, come lend some moral support.”

They started toward her, but Veronique held up her hand in warning.

“Don’t touch her though. If one of you is causing this, I need to be able to determine who. And I need to be able to separate her general reaction to sexual stimulation from her response to you three.”

Agreeing to her terms, they all surrounded the little table, careful to remain an arm’s length away. 

With a quick flick of her wrist, Veronique lit her wand. “I know the light will be distracting, but I need to see. Just start with something easy like your nipples. Do what you like; there’s no judgment from me.”

Severus could see Hermione was discomfited by not only performing for a stranger but also being in a unfamiliar place under such stressful circumstances. A nudge might be necessary. “It’s all right, Miss Granger,” he purred, low and soothing. “Just pretend we’re at home and you’re sitting on the bed . . . giving Draco a good show. You know how much he loves watching you tease yourself. Look at him. He’s already hard for you. I know how much that turns you on. Put on a show for him now. Make him ache.”

Lucius and Draco were both smirking, used to Snape pushing her in the right direction; but Veronique was gaping at him, her chest rising and falling as her respiration accelerated.

Hermione looked at Draco, and her gaze immediately dropped to the distended column lining his shorts. Always eager to be of assistance, Draco lifted the front of his shirt with one hand to reveal the full majesty of his endowments, and as if that were her cue, Hermione cupped her breasts with both hands, her fingers blindly strumming her nipples.

“Bloody hell,” the mediwitch muttered, assessing Severus with a quick once over. “Is he always like that?”

Hermione laughed. “Yes.”

Raising her wand to begin observing, Veronique inclined her head appreciatively. “You must be a very happy witch.”

Hermione met Snape's eye for a moment and smiled. “Yes, I am.”

"Less chatting, more teasing,” Severus drawled. “I’d better see those tits poking through your shirt in less than two minutes or things are going to get _very_ embarrassing for you.”

His threat must have come through loud and clear, because she jumped into action as if there were a time limit. Raking her nails over the taut material of her top, she jolted her nipples into pert alertness, waking them up for more vigorous action. The lilac fabric highlighted the budding beautifully.

“Look at Draco,” Severus murmured. “Do you remember how he tongued your breasts this morning during inspection . . . the warm suction as he drew you into his mouth . . . the slick swipe as he laved your rosy flesh? I can see you remember it vividly. Watch Draco as you pinch those nipples. Make sure he knows how much you appreciate his dedication. I expect those knickers to be nice and wet when we're through here.”

Her focus darted back to Draco, and she maintained eye contact as she plucked each tip to full strength, a whimper of need punctuating the fierce clamp of her fingers. Draco adjusted his dick and returned her stare with such desperation Severus wondered if the boy would make it back to the manor in one piece. They might have to commandeer one of Veronique’s rooms to keep him from hurting himself.

When Hermione was squirming and panting, quite possibly on the verge of humping the table, Veronique lowered her wand and tapped it absently against her hand.

“One of you touch her. Just put your hand somewhere on her skin.”

Lucius reached out to clasp her arm, but Hermione turned her shoulders slightly so he’d bump into her breast. With a devilish smile, Lucius slipped his fingers down her top and helped himself a healthy handful. Veronique’s gaze followed the path of his fingers as they disappeared beneath Hermione's shirt, but after several voyeuristic seconds, she resumed her duties and lifted her wand to check Hermione's response.

“Okay,” Veronique muttered. “Now Draco.”

Lucius stepped back, and Draco moved to her other side, one hand disappearing beneath the hem of her shirt to test the other breast. Hermione moaned quietly, her complexion feverishly pink, and Veronique tilted her head to study her eyes more closely.

“And Mr. Snape.”

Draco released her as Severus reached past Lucius to stroke her face. His finger trailed along her downy cheek, and Hermione leaned into his touch, a growly purr of need and pleasure whipping through her nose.

Veronique squinted. “Interesting. Now all of you at once.”

Lucius touched her shoulder while Draco took her hand; when she shivered, Severus pressed his palm to her cheek and caressed her face with the edge of his thumb. 

“Well,” Veronique said under her breath. “That’s rather conclusive.”

Licking her parched lips, and forcing herself back from the brink, Hermione spoke for them all, “What did you see?”

“The gold flares when you’re aroused _and_ when they each touch you. But . . . when they all touch you at the same time, it becomes even more intense.”

Snape thought it was interesting too, but maybe not the same way the mediwitch did. “So _we_ caused this.”

Veronique lowered her wand but continued to inspect Hermione’s eyes. “I don’t know what triggered it, but this was most definitely brought on by all four of you being together. I don’t know why it didn’t manifest earlier, but sexual magic isn’t predictable like other branches. There are many variables that can alter an outcome. It could have been the emotions brought on by a first anal experience. It could have been the number of orgasms. It could have been something seemingly unrelated. There’s no telling which ingredients combined to create this result. Are you sure nothing has ever happened before when you were all together?”

Severus shook his head, but Hermione nodded excitedly. “Yes. Something _did_ happen,” she exclaimed.

Veronique perked up. “What?”

“They all came on me,” Hermione said earnestly, “and it made my skin feel insane.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was like I was vibrating. Like a generator. It was gone by the next morning, but it left me feeling spacey and calm.”

“They all came on you,” the mediwitch repeated as if that were significant. “And did you come too?”

“Yes. All at the same time.”

“And did they all come inside you last night?”

“Yes. Do think they have magic semen?” Hermione asked in jest.

Veronique raised her eyebrows as if that wasn’t such a bad idea. “I think maybe, for you, it is.”

“Are you serious?”

“Quite.”

“But when we all get together, they always ejaculate either in or on me somehow. Why is it suddenly different?”

“That’s the million Galleon question,” Veronique said, her smile enigmatic. “Maybe whatever this magic is has been building up over time, and you finally just tipped it over the edge. Or maybe something else has changed that you haven’t identified yet.”

“We all came in the same place,” Draco suggested. “That’s not usual.”

Hermione nodded. "He's right. That first time, everyone came on my skin . . . and I . . . rubbed it all together. And last night they all came in my arse. All in the same place.”

Veronique shrugged thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s the common factor. You said they were all touching you at once too, didn’t you? Perhaps that’s enhancing it.”

“So what are we supposed to do about it?” Snape asked, his tone clipped with frustration. “Stop fucking her as a group?”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Absolutely not!”

Veronique held up a hand to silence them. “There seems to be a misunderstanding here. Mr. Snape is approaching this as a malady, something to be avoided. Is that how you see it, Hermione?”

The room was stone silent as Hermione sat thinking, her gaze wandering over each of them as if seeing them from a new angle. “No, I don’t. The whole colored lights thing is a bit weird, but . . . it’s not hurting me. And maybe it can be of use.”

“In what way?” Lucius asked.

“Well . . .” Hermione thought a lot longer that time. “Maybe the colors mean something.”

Veronique beamed as if Hermione had answered the ultimate riddle of the sphinx. “I believe you’re seeing auras—the energy emanating from a living thing.”

Snape had suspected the same thing; he just hadn’t seen that as a cause for celebration.

“Auras?” Hermione said, making a face. “That’s just divination hogwash.”

Veronique’s left eyebrow arched toward her hairline. “Is it? That’s strange, because I’ve met many witches and wizards on my travels abroad who had the same ability, and they never doubted their own eyes.”

"I thought you'd never seen this before?" Hermione returned. "If you knew what it was, why didn't you just say so?”

“Oh, I’ve never seen it take this form,” Veronique corrected. “Your gilded irises are a new one for me. And I’ve never met someone who had the ability fucked into them.”

Draco burst into snuffling guffaws, his attempts to hold back choking him with gaspy snickers.

At the sight of his laughing fit, Hermione succumbed to the giggles as well. “Technically, it was buggered into me,” she clarified through her tittering.

Draco snorted and kissed her forehead. “I think it’s wicked.”

Severus watched as Draco nuzzled Hermione's cheek, the soft warmth of their affection permeating the room. Perhaps they were right. Maybe her new aura vision wasn't so much an affliction as an ability. But he still wanted to know exactly what had brought on such a drastic reaction. Was their combined semen really the causal factor? He'd never heard of such a thing. There must be more scientific answers out there somewhere—perhaps in Lucius's library. The Malfoys had the most extensive collection of books on sexual magic Severus had ever seen. Statistically, there was bound to be something pertinent in at least one of them.

“If something goes wrong, you should come back to me immediately,” Veronique instructed Hermione. “But I really think this will only improve your life. A little extra information can only make things easier. This isn’t a curse. It’s a gift. Use it.”

Hermione grasped her hand gratefully. "Thank you. I do feel better about all this.”

“Excellent! Let me know if the power changes in any way. I like to keep detailed notes on all my patients—especially ones who present such unusual cases. I know a mediwizard in Argentina who would be fascinated by this.”

“Come on, Hermione,” Draco said, helping her off the table. “Let’s go find a mirror and see if I can turn your eyes into Galleons.”

“There’s one in the hall,” Veronique told him. “Next to the front door.”

The two of them ran off, and Lucius said goodbye to Veronique and thanked her for seeing them on such short notice. Severus followed Lucius back through the twisting halls, his thoughts lost in a maze of conjecture, wondering, worrying.

They found Draco fondling Hermione’s breasts in the foyer, the two of them giggling madly as the mirror replayed their game of grope and glow; and for a moment, their joviality stood in such contrast to his own bleak outlook that Severus was struck cold by an unexpected realization: he'd traveled this perilous route before. His selfish actions had—once again—altered the course of someone's life. A witch he cared about.

Just a week earlier—a day earlier—she’d been healthy and whole, her world as it should be. 

And now all that had changed. Because of something he'd been a part of. Because of something he'd instigated. 

Yet there she was, smiling, giddy, rubbing her arse all over Draco as if her diagnosis were a cause for celebration. She wasn't upset at all. How had she accepted the news so easily? Was she not disturbed by the fact that her life had been completely transformed by one night of depravity? 

Apparently not. The gaiety of her laughter indicated not only acceptance but joy, and even though he didn’t understand it, Severus found a glimmer of hope in that sound. Hope for her as well as himself. Hope for their future as a foursome.

How did she do that? How could a laugh flip his mood like a coin? How did she blast apart his darkness without lifting a finger? Perhaps dubbing her a miracle-worker the night before hadn't been so far fetched. 

Dashing over, Hermione snagged Lucius and Severus by the fronts of their shirts and pulled them into her face. “Look at my eyes.”

"Yes, love," Lucius said, chuckling at her exuberance. “And you know how much I like gold.”

He kissed her cheek, and Hermione gave Severus a smile that said “everyone’s kissed me but you.” 

Sighing, Snape acquiesced and pecked her forehead. “That was for being so brave about all this,” he murmured. “And since you were such a good little girl for the mediwitch, I’ve got a nice lolly for you to suck on when we get home.”

Grinning widely, she wrapped her arms around him and tucked her face into the shelter of his neck. “I love your lolly, but I’d rather have a spank-fucking. Or both if you're up for it.”

Lucius smirked at him over her head. “I think we can find her an even better reward _close by_.”

Catching his drift, Severus nodded. “Should we let her chose her own?”

“She _was_ awfully good for the mediwitch.”

“They’re not going to be busy this time of day.”

“That’s what I was thinking. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

"I hope you brought money.”

“Don’t I always?”

Hermione poked him in the ribs. “Money for what? What are you two talking about?”

“Good little girls get to go to the toy store,” Severus murmured in her ear and then smacked her arse and gave her bouncy bum cheek a parting squeeze. “Go hold Draco’s hand. It’s time for some retail therapy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accompaniment--a musical part that supports or partners a solo instrument, voice, or group.
> 
> "Good Lovin'" by the Young Rascals. Written by Rudy Clark and released in 1965. <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=g55XaECGBN0>


	40. Vibrato

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have to stop working on this chapter. It’s making me nuts. The next update will be five chapters long, so it’s going to take me a while to fix them and get them ready. (But they aren’t long chapters, so hopefully it won’t take forever.)

40—Vibrato

“Money can't buy me love.”—The Beatles

(Lucius) 

Hermione clutched Draco’s hand as they strolled past row after row of libidinous paraphernalia. Her face was permanently pink, the excitement and embarrassment dying her cheeks like carmine; but that impish smile revealed her true sentiments. Lucius couldn’t help sharing a sapient smirk with Snape, who seemed to find her reaction particularly amusing.

Lucius was relieved to see Severus looking so lighthearted. The previous night had been quite the emotional roller coaster, and all of them had been apprehensive about her prognosis; but Severus seemed to hoard the brunt of the blame, grasping for more, piling it all atop his own shoulders as if his personal failings had been the cause of her fainting spell. Of course Lucius understood how Severus felt—having spent the last five years blaming himself for Narcissa's death—he just hoped his friend didn't become so blinded by self-recrimination that he lost sight of everything they'd gained in the past few months. Lucius had seen firsthand how remorse could dig a hole so deep escape became impossible. Impossible _unless_ someone intervened. That was why he'd suggested their little excursion: to lighten the mood and bring them back to center, to remind them all that pleasure was integral to their wellbeing.

And his plan seemed to be working. Smiles abounded on all four faces. Well . . . Snape was more restrained, but that was to be expected.

Hermione looked to be in excellent spirits, which helped ease Lucius's fears regarding her health. Although he had a good relationship with Veronique, he preferred to avoid healers when at all possible. St. Mungo’s had soured his attitude toward the medical profession, and he would be perfectly happy to never set foot in a hospital ever again. Just remembering the antiseptic smell of Narcissa’s room made his gorge rise. One building should never be home to so much pain and misery. So much loss.

Thank Merlin Hermione was all right. He didn't know if he could bear another serious illness after what had happened to Narcissa. There was only so much one man could withstand. And the thought of losing Hermione chilled him to the core.

He'd nearly had a heart attack the night before when she'd castigated him for belittling Draco, certain she’d decided to leave him and his thoughtless rhetoric behind. And, honestly, it had been thoughtless; he'd lashed out, pent up with unresolved panic, and immediately forgot their new rules of cohabitation. To avoid upsetting her, he'd only been admonishing Draco in private, away from sensitive ears, but it was difficult to remain silent when he saw his son slipping so precipitously. Didn't that boy have any fortitude? He had so much going for him—looks, business acumen, money—couldn't he at least keep himself on an even keel? She was going to get tired of picking him up every time things got a little tough, and Lucius didn't want his son to be the straw that broke their foursome’s back.

Lucius watched the two of them for a moment, Hermione leaning on Draco's arm and whispering about some toy on the shelf. By all appearances she seemed to adore Draco's softness, but Lucius knew there would come a day when she needed a real man, a man she could depend on, one who was strong and reliable. Would Draco be pushed aside for Lucius or Severus when that moment came? How would the group fare as a whole if one of them was lacking? 

Would it weaken them? 

Or would her rejection be the impetus Draco needed to finally change his ways?

Lucius wasn't sure which answer he preferred. If Draco was stronger, would Lucius become redundant? He didn't want to lose his own foothold in her life. At the same time, he wanted nothing less than absolute success for his son, and seeing him embody the Malfoy ideal of power and control was a dream he’d harbored since Draco’s birth. 

And that dream was hardly unreasonable. The boy did share his genes after all. Malfoy blood ran through his veins the same as Lucius’s. Their family tree was a bold one, filled with some of the most imposing names in history. Unfortunately, Draco seemed more twig than branch. The smallest amount of pressure and he snapped.

How was Lucius supposed to guide his son in the right direction if he couldn't call out his faults as they arose?

 _Stop right there, Lucius,_ a little voice in his head interjected, mimicking Hermione's stern firmness. _Don’t start down that path. You're forgetting why we're here._ His gaze wandered over to Hermione, the bushy-haired embodiment of all he held dear, his peace of mind. He needed to focus on her. On her recovery. On her happiness. Riling himself up with internal arguments about Draco would only shorten his fuse, and anger was a habit Lucius could no longer afford.

He needed to keep himself in the right frame of mind. Pushing aside his worries about Draco, he focused on more pleasant pursuits.

Like a new cock ring. Or that nice mink mitten he’d seen last time. Hermione might like a good petting.

Okay, _he_ might like a good petting. Fur calmed his nerves, and after their appointment with the mediwitch that morning, he was bordering on frazzled.

Draco and Hermione turned the corner, and Lucius unconsciously reached out for her before realizing a little distance was probably for the best; he’d been gaining on them since the edibles aisle. Severus and Lucius were trying their best to maintain a buffer between themselves and the “couple,” just in case they were seen; but it was hard to suggest which purchases would be most advantageous without getting close. Lucius had told her he’d buy her anything she wanted, but she insisted on seeing all they had to offer before making up her mind. That didn't fool him for a second; her browsing was nothing but foreplay. And by the smell of things, shopping had been a rousing success.

So far the only thing she’d chosen was an enormous book of full-color spanking art, which Draco was dutifully carting around for her. Severus had wandered off as they passed a room of sex-themed furniture, and Lucius had almost followed him, curious what had caught his fancy; but surely Snape would divulge any truly inspirational ideas so they could collaborate. 

His own attention was drawn to the lingerie section, and he left Draco and Hermione to their vibrator perusal to see if there was anything worth a gander. The store, aptly known as just _Dick’s_ , was a strange melting pot of quality, where outstanding designer pieces intermingled with lower quality swill that didn't deserve to see the light of day. Lucius had to sift through the rubble sometimes, but he was always surprised by their selection.

Surprise, however, could not convey what he felt when he saw the central display. Lucius stopped in his tracks, entranced by the luminous white teddy locked behind a protective glass case. Sweet Circe’s swine, it was fashioned entirely out of pearls. He walked around the limbless mannequin, his eyes dancing over every gleaming inch. The high-cut legs and plunging neckline were elegant rather than tacky, projecting an air of refinement and couture . . . and that thong back would pull the pearls straight up her bum. _This is too perfect._  

Heading to the front desk, Lucius located the proprietor, Dick Deedleton, with whom he had a rapport. There was no fear of the man ratting them out—his business thrived on secrecy, and he had a strict no-tell policy; Lucius was more worried about other customers showing up before he and Severus could make an escape. Although that seemed rather unlikely. Who went shopping for porn at eight o’clock in the morning? 

Tapping the counter with one manicured finger, Lucius drew the man's attention from his ledgers. “How much for the pearl negligee, Dick?”

Mr. Deedleton, who bore a striking resemblance to an aging Elvis, paused in his column computations and smiled when he recognized Malfoy. “Eleven thousand Galleons, fourteen Sickles, and twenty-two Knuts.”

Lucius had the good grace not to react. “May I see it?”

“Sure. I’ll show it to you myself.” Dick came out from behind the counter, and they headed back across the store. “It’s a one-of-a-kind design from Japan. I bought it at a convention in Amsterdam.” When they arrived at the central display, he unwarded the case and floated down the dummy. “It has this line of diamond clasps that hook it together like a drawstring, and the body is all cultured pearls. The finest quality. The clasps can be charmed to expand or contract to fit the wearer.”

Lucius ran his fingers over the front. “Do you mind if I test it?”

“Test it for what?”

“To see if the pearls are real.”

“Oh.” Dick gestured absently. “Go right ahead.”

Lucius leaned down and ran his teeth over one fake breast. The telltale grit made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Fuck, they _were_ real. Each bead was perfection, and he’d been convinced such uniformity was indicative of a fake; but now that he knew the pearls were genuine, he was gobsmacked by the exquisite artistry.

“Lucius,” Severus drawled from behind him, “are you mouthing the merchandise?”

Snickering, Malfoy raised his head. “Come over here and look at this.”

Severus stood at his side and arched one eyebrow as he inspected the piece. “It’s lovely.”

“I thought so too. Wouldn’t she look fabulous in it?”

“She looks fabulous in anything. She looks best in nothing.”

Lucius couldn’t argue with that. “True, but this could be her ‘around the house’ attire. We could all enjoy it.”

Snape’s lips wobbled with suppressed laughter. “I don’t know about that. She leans toward jeans and joggers, not pearl thongs.”

“Trust me, she loves her pearls. But if she hears the price, she’ll think I’ve lost my mind. I doubt she’s ever paid more than twenty Galleons for any piece of clothing in her wardrobe. She deserves something nice.”

"You don't have to convince me. It’s your money; spend it as you see fit.”

“When I bring her over here, don’t tell her the price,” Lucius implored Dick, hoping the man would play along. “And for Merlin’s sake, don’t tell her they’re real pearls. Just tell her it’s costume jewelry.”

Deedleton shrugged and nodded, apparently amused by the chicanery . . . or perhaps just willing to go the extra mile for a sale of such size.

Leaning in, Severus murmured, “You know I’m not one to lecture, but if she finds out that you lied about how much that costs, she’s going to be livid. Especially after everything she said last night about being honest.”

Lucius sighed. He was right. Dammit. “Fine, fine. All right . . . no outright lying. Just try to avoid the question.”

Dick agreed.

Setting off in search of Hermione, Lucius strode the length of the store and finally found her contemplating the wall of dildos with a pensive Draco. “Have you found anything yet, princess?”

Hermione turned, her smile mischievous yet brilliant. “Yep. These nice furry cuffs,” she said, holding them up. “And this tawse. Do you think Severus will like it?”

“If you mean will he like using it on you, I’m sure the answer is yes. I found you a pretty new teddy to wear. Come and see if you like it.”

Hermione handed Draco the cuffs and tawse and they both followed him over to the clothing section.

“What do you think?” he asked, gesturing toward the display.

“Lucius, it’s . . . beautiful,” Hermione sputtered. “But it looks expensive. How much is it?”

“It’ll be priceless once I see you modeling it back at the manor, those pearls slipping between your cheeks.” Lucius stroked the curve of her arse and gave her his most charming smile.

Arching into his hand, she grinned and asked, "Are these real pearls?"

“They do look real, don’t they?” he said evasively. “And I think you'll be stunning in them.” His fingertips trailed up her spine and tickled the nape of her neck in an attempt to sway her decision. “My pearly little princess.”

“How much is it?”

Blast! She wasn't going to let it go. “It’s rude to ask the price of a gift.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why won’t you answer my question?”

“Because it’s unimportant. You can’t put a price on art.”

“I’m sure the shop owner has put a very definite price on it. How much?”

“A trifle.”

She turned to Severus. “How much is it?”

Snape shook his head. “I’m happy to say I honestly have no idea.”

Wheeling around, she fixed Lucius in her sights. “You already buy me too much as it is. You’re not getting me some five hundred Galleon teddy.”

“It’s not five hundred Galleons,” he said as if that were ludicrous.

Hermione wasn’t dissuaded. “How much is it then?”

“You deserve something nice. Something that’s all your own. Let me buy this for you.”

“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t want it. It’s pretty, but I’d feel guilty about the cost every time I wore it. I’ll just put on the pearls we have at home.”

“What if I say it’s an early birthday present?”

Smiling softly, she touched his chest. “No. Lucius, I don’t want ostentatious gifts; I want you. I’d be much happier just spending time together. You know, sitting in your lap while you read the paper, holding your hand in the drawing room, kissing you every morning. Those are the kinds of things that mean something to me. Little things. Personal things. Not expensive things.”

Lucius knew right then he was never going to see her in that teddy. His inner child wanted to pout, but he couldn't let her see him acting so childish. “I understand. I’m just not used to such insistent gift resistance.”

Pulling him down, she kissed his cheek. “I think I can find a way to make it up to you. Do you have more strands of pearls you haven’t shown me?”

“Loads more.”

“When we get home, I'll see if I can transfigure a bikini out of them. How does that sound?”

It sounded bloody outstanding. “Can you really do that? I didn’t know you were so domestic.”

“I’m sure Severus will help me. He alters my clothes all the time.”

Lucius caught Snape’s eye, a twitchy smile tickling his lips. “Does he?”

Severus shrugged as if his sidelining as a seamstress should have been expected. “Naughty schoolgirls need short skirts.”

“All right,” Lucius laughed, nodding at Hermione with approval. “I'll take you up on that offer. But you have to pick out something for us to play with together.”

Affecting an innocent expression, she touched the toys in Draco's hand. “Are the handcuffs not to your liking?”

Ah! His princess was becoming more devious by the day. He'd make a Slytherin out of her yet. “As long as we’re using them on _you_.”

“We can discuss it later,” she said blithely.

Severus unsuccessfully choked back a sudden snort, and Lucius glared at him. “Perhaps.”

Hermione’s smile widened. “I’ve always wanted to tie you up and have my way with you. Have you ever had a pearl handjob?”

Severus coughed roughly to disguise his chortle.

Ignoring him, Lucius nodded. “I might be open to negotiations. Why don’t you and Draco take your selections up to the counter.”

Severus and Lucius watched as she led Draco to the till, and Lucius gave the negligee a parting look of longing before setting off with Snape.

“I know something we could do for her that wouldn’t cost much and would be extremely personal,” Severus said, his voice barely audible.

“What would that be?”

“I was thinking that Hermione might need _a room of her own_ in the manor.”

“What are you talking about? She already has a room.”

“I was thinking more of a playroom.”

A slow smile spread across Lucius's face. “Have you already drawn up the blueprints?”

“No, no, just some general ideas. I know how much you get off on orchestrating things like this.”

"I'll start making a list when we get home. I want to hear your plans.”

“We should ask Draco what he wants to include.”

“If we must. Draco probably wants to stock the shelves with bottles and breast pumps.”

Severus glanced thoughtfully at the two youngsters and then gave Lucius an indecipherable eyebrow arch. “That might be what Hermione wants too.”

Lucius stopped him before they were close enough to be overheard. “What all have you seen in her head?”

“It’s too complicated to get into now.”

“Knowing her, that’s putting it lightly.”

“Eleven thousand Galleons!” Hermione shouted, turning from Dick to Lucius, a look of abject horror stretching her face. “Have you gone completely mental?”

Lucius heaved out a perturbed sigh. “I’m guessing Dick wasn’t in Slytherin back at school,” he muttered under his breath so only Severus could hear.

“Extremely doubtful,” Severus concurred.

“Do you think she's ever going to let me forget this?”

Snape’s lip twitched. “Also doubtful.”

“Do you think I should beg for forgiveness and sacrifice my extravagant lifestyle in deference to her Spartan ideals?”

Pulling his hands from behind his back, Severus revealed that he too had chosen an item for purchase. With a knowing smile, he pressed the mink mitt into Lucius's hand. “A little begging might do you some good, but I hardly think she'd require your diamond-encrusted soul as recompense.”

Malfoy carded his fingers through the fur, the corners of his mouth curling with amused chagrin. Damn know-it-all. “Be careful; I suspect she's equally repulsed by cocky Legilimens who’re constantly sticking their giant noses where they don’t belong.”

Severus smirked and began to walk away. “Very _very_ doubtful.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vibrato--Creating variation pitch in a note by quickly alternating between notes.
> 
> "Can't Buy Me Love" by the Beatles. Written by John Lennon and Paul McCartney and released in 1964. <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=srwxJUXPHvE>
> 
> The price of the negligee is $57,000 in U.S. dollars. I based that on the price of an 18 inch strand of cultured pearls by Mikimoto ($2500). Estimating that it would require about 20 strands to make a negligee, that took me to $50,000. The diamonds, time and labor, and its handcrafted, one-of-a-kind label account for the remaining $7000. Conversion rates were done on the beyondhogwarts Gringotts Currency Converter. <http://www.beyondhogwarts.com/cgi-bin/gringotts.cgi>


	41. Theatre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, I’ve got five chapters for you all; I’ll post one a day till I get them all up. Just a short note on the previous chapter: Lucius made a comment about Draco wanting to stock Hermione’s new room with bottles and breast pumps, and numerous people asked if that meant that Draco wanted kids. It didn’t. It was just Lucius derisively commenting on what he sees as Draco’s increasingly infantile demeanor and his obsession with her breasts. Sorry for the confusion; I just didn’t know how else to convey Lucius’s thoughts on the matter. Snape’s reply will make more sense in the near future. *cough*-chapters 48 and 49-*cough* (Health update: I did get to the gastroenterologist and had an endoscopy. No word yet, but it’ll take some time for the biopsies to reveal anything. Thank you again for all the support and well wishes. I appreciate you thinking of me.)

41—Theatre  


“In your room, your burning eyes cause flames to arise.”—Depeche Mode  


(Hermione)   


Hermione’s weekend was spent in an orgiastic furor of reading. Aura Theory wasn’t a subject she’d ever studied before, and it was wonderfully exciting to pore through a bevy of new books. When she went to work the next week, she was pleasantly surprised by the clarity her new vision brought to the job. It was easy to identify which witches had it out for her around the office, and it was clear when to approach and when to avoid the department heads. Cases, too, began flowing smoothly, the questioning of witnesses no longer hindered by dubious reliability. Liar’s auras went all blotchy and brown like blobs of mud, and weeding out the troublemakers early helped to avoid the setbacks that normally haunted their cases.  


But beyond all the practical applications, it was profoundly gratifying to see the colors change around the creatures she was helping. They’d go from sickly hues of worry to bright and calm jewel tones or pastels, and it buoyed her spirits to know she was improving their lives before their cases could even be solved.  


Work became less demanding, less draining. Each night she'd head home with Draco feeling tired but fulfilled. And with everything shipshape at the Ministry, it became easier to unwind when the day was done. The men in her life seemed to particularly appreciate that added bonus.  


On Friday evening, after a rather steamy walk up the driveway, Draco and Hermione burst through the front door, tearing at each other's clothes, only to find Severus and Lucius waiting for them in the foyer. Her senior Slytherins looked quite pleased with themselves, and she wondered if they’d been shagging without her there to watch.  


“What are you two up to?” she asked as she ran to Severus for her after-work hug.  


Stroking her head with a sweep of his long fingers, Severus returned her embrace then urged her toward Lucius, who lifted her into his arms and pecked her on the lips.  


“We have a surprise for you,” Lucius announced with a smile.  


“From both of you?” She was used to Lucius’s random gifts, but a surprise from Snape usually meant she’d go to sleep with a red bum.  


“Yes. Are you ready to go see it?”  


She couldn't help grinning at the excited energy dancing around his head. It made him look fifteen years younger. “Does this surprise warrant a quick shower?”  


“No, not at all.”  


_Pity_. "Okay, I'm game. Where do we have to go to see this surprise?”  


"Just upstairs."  


“Is this a naked surprise?” she asked hopefully.  


“You’ll just have to wait and see.”  


Lucius took her by the hand and led her upstairs, but instead of going left toward his room, he went in the opposite direction, toward the wing no one used. When he got to the first room on the right, he released her hand to reach for his wand, and with a flourish, he charmed open the French doors.  


“The Granger Palace,” he proclaimed.  


Hermione stepped inside and stared around the room in total bewilderment. The walls were papered a shiny, textured silver-grey, and there was an enormous cherry four-poster bed dramatically arranged with its back to the tall picture window, which was draped in creamy curtain swag. A short, sparkly chandelier dripped from the center of the ceiling, casting daubs of rainbow light all over the lush carpet that flowed across the floor smooth as fresh milk. It was gorgeous but not out of the ordinary when compared to the ornate furnishings found throughout the mansion.  


What they’d added, however, was truly spectacular: intricate benches that were clearly made for punishment positioning, sex toys all lined up on the bureau, restraints that hung from the ceiling like black streamers, and an entire wall of paddles, floggers, and canes displayed like collector’s items, complete with spotlight accents and decorative wall mounts.  


She didn't know whether to blush or drool.  


With a hand to her lower back, Severus urged her to explore, and merging to the left, she started with the most intimidating area first. Merlin’s beard. Not only were there enough ropes and cuffs to satisfy any possible bondage scenario, there was a whole rigging system dangling from the ceiling. Which one of them wanted to hang her from the ceiling?   


Probably Snape.  


Further along the left wall was the paddling capitol of Great Britain, and seeing it up close only amplified its intimidation. Just the sight of all those riding crops and cat o’nine tails made her backside ache, the snap of the leather echoing in her imagination. Muffy told her to just bend over right there and beg for a spanking so they’d see how wet she’d gotten, but she kept moving, desperate to discover what other panty-drenching surprises awaited her discovery.   


Next to a sizable black leather ottoman sat an antique punishment bench, and it looked as if it would hold open her legs just enough for Snape to see everything. Her body wandered toward it, urging her to climb up and test it out, but her brain derailed her course and steered her toward the curious conglomeration of toys set out on the dresser.  


The lacquered bureau was so shiny it reflected a mirror image of the phallic garden that appeared to have sprung from the fertile loam of the aged mahogany. Some of the dildos were glass, and some were silicone, a few were super realistic, and others were modern and ergonomic. She stared at them, utterly confounded. Did they really need that many reinforcements?  


Tearing her eyes from the hoard of technicolor toys, Hermione walked around the bed, running her hand over the plush comforter as she passed. The bed wasn’t as big as Lucius’s, but they’d all fit in it easily enough. And those sturdy posts would be handy for tying someone up.   


Hopefully her.  


On the other side, sitting out on the wide nightstand, she found even more sexual aids: a variety of harnesses—the purpose of some surpassing her limited knowledge—a chastity belt, various kinds of nipple clamps, and a selection of gags and anal plugs. No kink was unrepresented. They’d be able to do anything to her . . . and she’d be able to do anything to Draco.  


Muffy began to laugh wickedly, delighted by the possibilities, but she stopped short when Hermione's eyes moved to the right of the nightstand. A queening throne! How had they guessed? She'd only seen pictures before, but having the real thing at her disposal made her stomach flutter with excitement. She could just picture Draco trapped beneath her, his face buried in her pussy—or maybe her bum—his hands bound to the throne’s frame so he couldn’t move.  


_Well, these knickers are a lost cause,_ Hermione mused. Muffy gurgled in agreement. She was going to have to towel herself down if somebody didn’t lick her clean soon.  


Turning full circle toward the door, Hermione was absolutely flabbergasted to find the entire remaining corner jam-packed with giant stuffed animals. One of the teddy bears was bigger than her. Next to the menagerie sat a white sawhorse with a padded crossbeam, its purpose a mystery. In the midst of the stuffed animals was a white bureau of some sort—about the size of the exam table at Veronique’s. What the hell was all this for? It was cute, but she couldn’t imagine any of them picking it out. _Well, maybe Draco_. Except Draco seemed just as floored by the room as she did. He was trailing behind her, still back by the nipple clamps, studying some of the items she couldn’t identify.  


There was a large white rocking chair set before the stuffed animals, and Hermione tipped it back and forth with one finger, just to double check that she wasn’t hallucinating. _This room is completely insane_. _What kind of man displays anal plugs and stuffed animals as equals?_  


“That door leads to the bathroom,” Lucius said softly. “Why don’t you see what we did to it.”  


Good lord, what did he do to the bathroom? Muffy sped her across the floor to find out. She crossed the threshold and blinked at the remodeling in awe. They'd replaced the usual claw-footed tub with a hot tub. It was sleek and posh, like a spa, and it was big enough that they’d all be able to fit in it together.   


On the counter lay a sparkling new collection of enema equipment, and she tentatively inspected each piece, wondering if her arse was up for the more daunting choices. Snape had provided a variety of nozzles and bags, and there was an enema bulb if he wanted to take his time . . . the flared tip slipping into her rectum again and again, fucking her as he filled her . . . her belly pressing against his thigh as he held her across his lap . . .   


_Fabulous. Knicker destruction complete._ Hermione wiggled a hand under her skirt and peeled her plastered gusset from the crease of her lips. Her clit was screaming, but she didn’t dare risk masturbating to a counter full of enema supplies. If anyone found her, she'd never hear the end of it.  


When Hermione returned to the bedroom, the three of them were just outside the door, their eyes set on her, waiting for a yay or nay.  


“So,” Lucius asked, leering at her like a devilish satyr, “what do you think of your new palace?”  


Hermione licked her lips and glanced around the room. “I think you spent way too much on all this.”  


“No, I didn’t,” he crowed proudly. “The tub is Severus’s transfiguration handiwork. The rest of the bathroom is untouched. In here the only things I bought were those bears and a few of these toys. Everything else was either already in our possession or transfigured. I hardly spent a thing.”  


Hermione looked around the room again, reevaluating. She was impressed. He’d done all this for her while honoring her wishes to not spend a fortune. “I think . . .” she paused, searching for the right words. “I think I’m a little scared what you plan on doing to me in here, but to be quite honest, I’m already wet.”  


Severus threw Lucius a smug grin. “I told you so.”  


Snickering, Lucius waved him off. “Yes, yes, we all know you’re brilliant.”  


Severus began to unbutton his black shirt, gliding toward her like a panther in heat. “And for my next brilliant idea, I say it’s time to play. I’ll go start the tub.”  


As he drew closer, the sexual energy rolling off him blasted her back like a heat wave. Draco caught her mid-stumble, and the hard ridge of his erection branded her backside; grinding into him, she groaned and clutched his hip to keep her balance. Severus brushed his fingers along her cheek as he passed, a smirk twisting his lips, but as soon as he was gone, Lucius appeared, his eyes as dark as lead, and his movements sinuous as silk. Dropping his chin, he studied her the way a wolf studied a hare, his nostrils flaring and his tongue creeping along his lower lip as if he could taste her arousal. His hunger was palpable.   


“Let’s get you out of this stuffy suit,” Lucius purred, his fingers trailing down her buttons. “Work is over; Severus says it’s time to play.” He nudged her waist with his rock hard cock, and Hermione’s knees buckled.   


The weekend promised to be one she’d remember.  


Repeatedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theatre—A building with a stage where performances take place.
> 
> “In Your Room” by Depeche Mode. Written by Martin Gore and released in 1994. [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=1&v=cGvZyrhObrg](https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=1&v=cGvZyrhObrg)
> 
> Queening throne—I don’t know if I’m allowed to post links to pages that sell stuff or not, but if you do a google search for “Queening Throne” the first two images (from BDSMgear dot com) are very much like Hermione’s new throne.


	42. Descant

42—Descant  


“I want a man with a slow hand.”—The Pointer Sisters  


(Draco)   


Draco smiled against her lips as Hermione wiggled her slick cunt along his cock. They’d been passing her around the hot tub for the past half hour, taking turns to see who could make her moan the loudest, and their friendly competition had propelled her into a state of sexual frenzy, her eyes wild and her hips ceaseless in their searching circles. To keep her hair from getting drenched, Snape had pinned it up for her, which was probably why she had a good half dozen love bites scattered around her neck and shoulders like bruised petals.  


She kept begging them to take her to the other room to test out her new toys, and Draco could understand her impatience, because if he was completely honest, Hermione’s playroom turned him on like nothing he'd ever seen before. And it explained why Snape had been so inquisitive lately, pressing him for any fantasies he’d yet to confess; that tricky bastard had been stocking the room with an assortment of perversions. In hindsight, Draco wished he’d been a bit more forthcoming, but his unspoken desires must have been detected by their resident Legilimens. There was too much synchronicity involved in the toy selection to dismiss as happenstance.  


“My turn,” Lucius announced. “Come over here where I can see you, princess. I need another hit of that pussy.”  


Hermione smiled and kissed Draco’s cheek. “Hold my place.”  


Draco nodded and shifted her across the tub into Lucius’s lap. He could do with a bit of break. His was starting to get a raging dickache.  


When Hermione departed, Severus slid over and inclined his head toward Draco’s ear, his voice low and rumbly like velvet thunder, “I didn’t tell Lucius about your . . . predilections. I played them off as Hermione’s.”  


Draco kept his eyes on Hermione, watching as Lucius arranged her on the edge of the tub and opened her legs, baring her drenched pussy to the room. Her inner lips glistened—but not with water—and when Lucius pinned back her labia with his fingers, Draco could see the swollen knot of her clit popping out from beneath its protective hood. She was ready to come. Pressing his face to her mound, the old man proceeded to eat her as if he were dining at a five-star restaurant, humming with pleasure as he indulged in his favorite dish. Draco could do with a bite himself, but he'd wait till later. He didn’t often get to see her from such a delicious angle, and he was enjoying the view.  


"Your desires are nothing to be ashamed of,” Severus continued quietly. “I know for a fact that Hermione wants to give you everything you’ve been dreaming about.”  


Draco turned and looked at him, worried his mental wards had been breached—but more worried that Snape was having him on. “Are you serious?”  


Severus nodded, his hair falling in front his mouth like a privacy curtain, making his words a secret between them. “I know you don’t like to advertise your more . . . _submissive tendencies_ when your father is around, but you can stop trying to hide them from me. I already know. And Hermione knows most of them, but she hasn’t guessed everything. You should be honest with her. She won’t turn you away.”  


He appreciated what Severus was trying to say, but it wasn’t as easy as he made it sound. “Are _you_ completely honest with her?”  


Severus was silent for several seconds before finally replying, “No. I take your point, but things are different between us.”  


“How?”  


“I wasn’t friends with her before we were lovers. I’m still . . . adjusting to her not being my student.”  


“Pppffft,” Draco scoffed. That was dragon shite. “You’re scared just like me.”  


“I am _not_ scared,” he said in a dark tone. “I’m tactful.”  


Draco couldn’t repress his smirk. He’d have to remember that one. “I’ll jump on the honesty bandwagon just as soon as you do.”  


A sudden gust of consideration blew all the tension from Snape’s face, leaving him looking thoughtful rather than harsh. “Perhaps you’re right.”  


Snape’s hand alighted on his knee, and Draco whipped around, his eyes wide with shock. “What are you doing?” he whispered, glancing at Lucius to make sure he was still immersed in her pussy.  


“Being honest. Is it making you uncomfortable?”  


No, it was making his dick throb. “What if father sees? You know how jealous he is.” The last thing Draco needed was a hot tub hexing war.  


“I’ll deal with Lucius. This is between us. What you want. What I want to give you. I know you’ve been with wizards before, but I think I can provide something different.”  


Draco’s gaze flickered in the direction of Snape’s crotch then darted away. “I don’t think I’m ready for a provision of that magnitude.”  


Severus breathed out a chuckle and reassuringly stroked Draco’s thigh with the broad pad of his thumb. “That’s not what you need right now. At least not from me.”  


“What do you think I need from you?”  


Severus met his eye with a look so perceptively shrewd that Draco had to turn away to keep from blushing. Fucking hell, that man was intense. Snape’s hand climbed his leg, steadily ascending, leaving no question as to its ultimate destination; and Draco, despite his racing heart, had absolutely no intention of throwing him off course. Not even when that hand snaked over his sac and encircled his prick, causing Draco’s pulse to accelerate past a thousand beats per minute. Holy hell. This wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting when he got in the tub.  


Severus leaned closer and put his lips against Draco’s ear. “I think you need a hand to guide you, someone who won’t judge.” He gently kissed his temple, and Draco’s jaw dropped, partly in surprise but mostly in pleasure.  


Snape’s fingers rippled along his length, and a warm puff of air steamed his cheek as Severus dragged his mouth down Draco’s face. When he reached his mouth, he gave Draco every opportunity to pull away or stop him, but denial was the last thing on Draco’s mind.  


Snape’s tongue slipped past his lips, and the warmth of his mouth closed over Draco’s. Hell’s Hinkypunks! He was kissing Snape. And Snape was good at it. Really good. Too good. Good enough to make Draco’s erection struggle in the man’s practiced grip.  


“Oh my God,” Hermione moaned.  


Draco’s eyes slid to the side. Bollocks! Having a go with Snape was startling enough, but having Granger witness their first kiss was positively nerve-wracking. He hoped she wasn’t offended. He’d been too caught up in the moment to think about the repercussions.  


“Please don’t stop,” she whispered, apparently not so much offended as horny.  


Lucius thought she was talking to him and went deeper, giving her pussy the full spectrum of his oral repertoire. Her back arched with a fitful jerk, and she yanked Lucius’s hair as she focused on Draco and Snape.  


Severus pumped him a little faster, and Draco lost it, falling prey to the older man’s masturbation mastery. A groan leapt from his throat, but Snape plunged his tongue into Draco’s mouth to muffle the outburst.  


Draco’s balls pulled taut, and he spilled his load in the swirling water as Snape squeezed him through each propulsive ejection, his hand expertly milking every last drop from his shuddering body.  


Hermione shouted as she came, the sharp sound bouncing against the bathroom tiles like an orgasmic ping pong ball. Snape pulled back, and they both watched as she grabbed hold of the ledge and bucked into Lucius’s face as if she were trying to give him whiplash. 

Severus waited patiently for her to recover, and when her eyes fluttered open, he kissed Draco’s cheek again—soothing him while giving her the eye candy she craved.  


“Are you all right?” Severus whispered.  


“Yeah.”  


“Do you want more in the future?”  


Unsure if he’d heard right, Draco glanced at him. "Yeah?"  


The corners of Snape’s mouth twitched. “Good.”  


Severus released his cock and shook the water off his arm before stretching it out on the tub behind Draco’s shoulders. His fingers carded through Draco’s hair, and he rubbed his head with the same calming rhythm he used each night to put Draco to sleep. Closing his eyes, Draco reveled in the peacefulness of the moment, amazed that Severus was capable of such tenderness.  


Maybe he _did_ need what Snape had to give.  


“Let’s get out of here, princess,” Lucius muttered, his words muted by her thigh. “I’m turning into a prune, and I’ve been waiting all day to see you swinging from the ceiling.”  


Hermione’s laugh was lazy with languid relaxation. “You’re not going to do anything scary, are you?”  


“Hardly . . . but I think you’re going to be extraordinarily sleepy when we go to bed tonight.”  


Hermione smiled and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “Get me ready for bed then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Descant—a melody or counterpoint accompanying a simple musical theme and usually written above it.
> 
> “Slow Hand” by the Pointer Sisters.  
> Written by Michael Clark and John Bettis. Released in 1981. <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=pnVOt2LK2Gg>


	43. Percussion

43—Percussion  


“Then we chill for a second, then I hit that ass some more.”—Ray J  


(Severus)   


Lucius set to work with the chains and leather cuffs, stringing her from the ceiling with all the panache of an artist displaying his masterpiece in an exclusive gallery. And what a picture she made. Although her breathing had become fast and tight, constrained by anxiety, her eyes were bright with anticipation. The pink buds of her nipples contrasted the soft weight of her breast by shearing to sharp outcroppings that could have carved marble. Ever a fan of her cleavage, Draco was manning his usual post, attached to her chest, and Severus watched the boy with fond amusement. Bath time had been far more entertaining than he could have imagined. The impressive speed of Draco's orgasm seemed to be indicative of his monstrous need for a caring touch. A kiss. Thank Merlin Lucius had been preoccupied with Hermione, because Draco was absolutely spot on: Lucius would be exceedingly jealous if his son became his competitor for yet another lover.  


But Severus felt the need to provide the boy with some support, or a second opinion as it were. What made a man a man, or even successful, was an answer every wizard needed to decide for himself; and at the moment, Draco was getting nothing but mixed messages and double standards. He saw Lucius doting on Hermione, spoiling her, embracing her every mood, but his own cravings for care were being rebuffed . . . by the one man who was supposed to love him most. And after everything the Malfoys had endured, everything they’d suffered and lost, Lucius’s obdurate attitude toward his son was not only a slap in the face but also a dismissal of Draco’s character and resilience. Draco had survived two traumatic upheavals in his young life, and instead of falling prey to bitterness or blame, he'd used the pain to shape himself into a better man. But Lucius couldn’t see that new man; he saw only the past, the man Draco should have been—had he followed in Lucius’s footsteps. Perhaps that was what Lucius found so off-putting about his son’s evolving sensitivity: it was a boldfaced denial of everything he valued. It was a rebellion, a distancing from the Malfoy legacy, a shunning of Lucius as a father and a person. And Lucius was hurt by that whether he admitted it to himself or not. The real shame was that even though Draco had split himself from the path Lucius had carved out, he still loved his father and longed for his approval; and Lucius loved Draco—he just thought Draco needed to be tough to find lasting happiness and success. If Lucius could let go of his expectations and actually see Draco as he was, both of them would go a long way toward reunification.  


But while Lucius had chosen a judgmental attitude when it came to Draco’s emotional development, Severus, being an impartial observer, was simply intrigued. Draco had undergone such a dramatic metamorphosis over the years that Severus couldn’t help but be impressed. Most people couldn’t break a bad habit let alone alter the course of their life. And Draco’s willingness to render himself vulnerable after so much personal pain was nothing short of inspirational. Something about that made Severus want to encourage more from the boy, because the longer he thought about it, the more convinced he was that Hermione was right: Draco could have any emotions he wanted, and that included neediness. Severus was starting to see that there was a certain freedom in the ability to just ask for the affection one required. After all, the squeaky wheel got the grease.  


His eyes settled on Lucius again. How different would their lives had been if they’d been encouraged to express all their needs with no reservations? Malfoy wouldn’t have spent a year destroying himself after Narcissa’s death, and Severus wouldn’t have spent night after night alone in his bed, convincing himself he was better off without human contact.  


But he didn’t want to drift down the dark road of regret tonight. Not when he had so much of what he wanted right in front of him. Lucius was a pillar of consistency in his life, and Severus was grateful for the comfort of that familiarity in a world that seemed dreadfully unstable. And now he could add Draco to his inner circle. Snape had no idea where that relationship might end up over time, but he was looking forward to discovering what made this new Draco tick.  


And of course there was Hermione, his deviant Head Girl with a heart of gold . . . and a brain to match. He was pleased she’d been so taken by the playroom; it felt good to have been the mastermind behind such a well-received gift. While he’d gotten input from both Malfoys, the themes represented were almost wholly from her imagination. He might have packaged her ideas in a different wrapper, but when they were in that room, the four of them were basically playing in her head.  


With that secret spurring his libido into high gear, Severus observed the preparations with one hand around his erection, watching the way her eyes followed Lucius as he set the scene: pale hands on black leather, muscles rolling beneath his bare skin, cock filling as he critiqued her positioning. His keen eye was driving her wild, and Severus could tell by the shifty shuffle of her lower half that the anticipation was getting to her.  


It was almost time for him to make the transition from observer to participant.  


When Draco’s breast worship had worked her to a panting fever pitch, Severus circled around and silently approached from the rear—one of his favorite tactical maneuvers. Extending his hand, he trailed his fingers over the hillocks of her backside and then gave her cheek a gentle pat. “What have we here? It seems I’ve found the perfect time to spank this little bottom. You can’t cover yourself at all, can you?”  


Whimpering, she shook her head and tried to look at him over her shoulder. “You know I don’t cover myself anymore. I learned my lesson.”  


He smiled, recalling that lesson’s lengthy lecturing and corner time. “Yes you did . . . but this is such a nice presentation.” He patted her other cheek. “I’ll warm you up first then we’ll mark the occasion with the cane.”  


“The cane! I haven’t been bad.”  


“The cane isn’t always for bad girls. Sometimes it’s for good girls who want to come,” he said and gave her arse a firm slap.  


“Oh gods, sir! Please! I’m so wet.”  


Lucius smirked at him over her head. “It sounds as though she’s enjoying the restraints.”  


“I thought she might.” Severus gave her jiggly rump another good smack. “What do you say to me, young lady?”  


“Uuuunnnnh!”  


“Lovely,” he chuckled, “but that wasn’t _quite_ the answer I was after.”  


Her facial muscles tensed as she wracked her brain for a suitable phrase. “Please . . . spank my naughty bottom, sir.”  


With a snicker, Draco released her nipple and gave the erect flesh a testing pinch. “You've been dying to say that all night, haven't you?”  


Squeezing her eyes shut, as if hiding from the humiliation, Hermione flexed her arms against the strength of the chains and thrust her pelvis toward Draco’s immobile left hand. “Please touch my clit! I can't take this anymore!”  


Forgoing the lure of her luscious breast, Draco ran his fingers over her fuzzy mound but made no attempt to delve between her lips. “And you’re so clean from the bath,” he murmured, ignoring her request. “I love seeing you all soft and fluffy like this.”  


“Mmmmm!” she growled, bucking into his fingers. “Please!”  


“Look how swollen you are, love,” Draco said with a pointed glance south. “I know just how you feel. It’s maddening to be teased so mercilessly, isn’t it?”  


Draco may have a penchant for Nanny Granger’s discipline, but he clearly loved seeing her clawing for climax just as much as Severus did. If Slytherins knew one thing, it how to exploit someone else's desires, and Draco was especially good at stringing people along. He'd make an excellent dom if he ever had the inclination.  


Snape smacked her arse again and bent down to press his lips to her ear. “I think you’d better start begging, Miss Granger. It looks as if Draco's just getting started.”  


“Oh gods!” She yanked on her arms and then slumped in the restraints when she couldn’t pull free. “Pleeeease touch my pussy, Draco—make me come.”  


“No,” Draco said simply. “I think you can find out what it’s like to wait a while. Please carry on, Severus. I like the way she moans when you turn her arse red.”  


Snape gave him an appreciative smile and nodded in approval. Draco was a bit of switch, wasn’t he? Interesting. Severus would have to think that over later—when his brain got some of its blood back.

Returning to the task at hand, he set about spreading some color over her adorable rump.   


_Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!_   


Draco waited until Severus had given her an even twenty then he sealed his lips around one reddened tit and resumed his slow suckling. The destruction of her sanity was instantaneous. She trembled and howled like a bound beast, arching into Draco’s mouth and rolling onto her toes as if searching for a height advantage. Draco wasn’t easily swayed, but he gave her a taste of freedom by sliding one hand down and tickling her clit with his middle finger, just barely grazing the glistening bud.  


Hermione’s cries became delirious, nonsense pleas spilling from her lips, garbled entreaties punctuated with Draco’s name. The keening began to drown out the sounds of spanking, so Severus upped the impact to make sure she could hear each sharp smack. If there was one thing that got that girl gushing, it was a good soundtrack.   


Lucius had taken several steps to the side for a better vantage point, and he watched their production with a small smile, waiting until Hermione was on the verge of tears before joining the ensemble. “I think that’s enough, you two. She’s starting to lose it.”  


Snape retrieved the cane he'd set on the ottoman earlier and tapped it against his palm to test the sting. “Let’s take bets on how many licks she needs to come.”  


“Cane licks or tongue licks?” Lucius asked with rakish half-smile.  


“Cane. I’ll wager one blowjob she needs at least seventy-five easy swats.”  


Lucius waved his hand dismissively. “I’m going to say fifty.”  


“That’s risky. But I’ll enjoy watching you swallow my seed.”  


Lucius flashed him a knowing quirk of one eyebrow that seemed to say “don’t you always?”  


He did.  


Draco pulled his mouth from her with a loud pop and joined the debate. “This is too rich for my blood. I’m not sucking father if I lose, but I’ll put fifteen Galleons on . . . less than twenty-five strokes.”  


“A blowjob _and_ fifteen Galleons—a very successful day for me,” Severus quipped.  


Lucius snickered and gestured toward her outthrust bum. “Please, by all means . . . I think she’s going to tear the brackets from the ceiling if we make her wait any longer.”  


Hermione wiggled her hips out even farther, providing him with the most inviting target, and Severus thanked her for the honor by tapping the cane against her pert arse, marking where he would strike: at the height of the curviest swell, the peak of Mount Spankme. Without prelude, he snapped the whippy wood into her cheeks.  


“Ah!”  


Draco took her cry as an invitation to resume feeding and bent down to suck her into his mouth.  


“No fair,” Severus interjected. “The deal was to make her come with the cane.”  


Lucius and Draco both looked at him and, at the same time, said, “I didn’t agree to that.”  


Severus arched an eyebrow, a chuckle resting on the tip of his tongue. “Perhaps you should remind me what bet we just made.”  


Lucius folded his arms as if he were in a business meeting and explained, “You merely said it would take her seventy-five swats or more to come—you didn’t specify that that orgasm would be due to the cane.”  


Damn. His cock was keeping him from thinking clearly. “I’ve suddenly remembered why I never gamble.”  


Lucius just smiled. “You win some you lose some. Please carry on. I’m eager to see who was right.”  


Severus sighed and lined up the cane again. _I guess after fucking Hermione a blowjob would be overkill anyway_. At least that was the story he told himself to dull the disappointment of his impending loss. Twitching his hand, he rapped her with the cane once more. _Swish-thwack._  


“Oh God,” Her head dropped back, and she grunted at the ceiling.  


_Swish-thwack._   


Draco switched to the other side, tugging on her breast so fiercely her skin stretched toward him, causing Hermione to struggle against the leather cuffs in an attempt to keep up with her nipple.  


_Swish-thwack._   


“Aaah!”  


_Swish-thwack._   


Draco’s pale fingers drifted down and resumed their wet exploration of her glistening slit, but this time it was Lucius who protested.  


“I don’t think so,” he growled. “That pussy is mine. You go back to your nighttime feeding.”  


Draco must not have minded the insinuation—either that or he was so engrossed in her rosy areola that he didn’t hear. Hermione’s panting _was_ awfully loud, a sure sign the orgasmic countdown had begun.   


Lucius stepped closer and, with a quick flick of his right hand, slapped her pussy with the flat of his fingers. Her eyes flew open, and she stared at him in shock, but Lucius just grinned and did it again.  


The slaps weren’t hard, more like firm taps, probably akin to what Severus had done to her with the riding crop. He’d given her several pussy spankings in the past, and he knew exactly how much she loved the warm sting of a controlled strike. But Lucius was going to beat himself at his own game. It was unlikely she'd last another minute let alone fifty swats. Severus gave her another with the cane to keep her nerve endings guessing. _Swish-thwack._  


“Fuck!” Hermione’s body bowed as Lucius’s one-handed clapping became a steady applause. “Please!”  


Draco shifted to the side so Lucius could easily reach her, but he continued to maul her breasts without missing a beat.  


Amid the storm of sensation, Hermione was a picture of pure ecstasy, her body quaking with building energy, and her face frozen in an expression of rapture. He’d have to get out his Pensieve later and relive the moment from multiple angles. Maybe he'd invite her along and indulge her voyeuristic tendencies.  


_Swish-thwack._   


_Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap_. Lucius never let up.  


_Swish-thwack._   


Hermione dry sobbed, “Pleeeeeese!”  


Lucius obliged by increasing the tempo to that of a bouncy foxtrot.  


“Uuuuuunh!”  


_Swish-thwack._   


_Slap slap slap slap._   


_Swish-thwack._   


_Slap slap slap slap._   


Her body began to vibrate like a sputtering engine, the jigglier bits taking on a life of their own.  


_Swish-thwack._   


_Slap slap slap slap_.  


"Come for us, little girl,” Severus murmured. “This room needs christening before we can call it official. Show us how much you love it.”  


An animalistic cry burst from her slack mouth, and she came, her eyes rolling madly as she rode through the pleasure. Draco stayed right with her, his lips sealed to her flesh through every twist and turn, and Lucius broke into a laughing smile as her juices spilled over his fingers, transforming his slap solo into a soggy samba.  


Her wails eventually died to garbled moans, and as Lucius caressed her pink pussy to ease her back down to earth, she sank into in the restraints like a scarecrow. “Thank you, sir.”  


“Are you addressing me or Lucius?” Severus asked.  


“All of you,” she panted.  


Chuckling, Severus kissed the top of her head. “Draco wins. You two planned the whole thing, didn’t you?”  


Hermione managed a tired snort.  


Detaching himself from her breast, Draco placed a gentle peck to her sweaty brow. “I don’t want Galleons or blowjobs; I just want to fuck her in that big bed tonight.”  


Severus tossed aside the cane and ran his hand over the lines razing her buttocks. “We’re all going to fuck her tonight. It is a room-welcoming party after all. Lucius, this little girl said she wants a spank-fucking. Would you care to assist?”  


Cocking one brow and smirking at Snape over her head, Lucius lifted her into his arms and locked her legs around his waist. “Ready when you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Percussion—musical instruments played by striking with the hand or with a handheld or pedal-operated stick or beater, or by shaking, including drums, cymbals, xylophones, gongs, bells, and rattles.
> 
> “Sexy Can I“ by Ray J (Feat. Yung Berg). Released in 2007. Written by William Ray Norwood Jr. (Ray J), Christian Ward (Yung Berg), Victor Carraway, and Noel Fisher (Detail). <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=YeVOnHce37Y>


	44. Allegro

44—Allegro  


“I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life. I've been waiting for a girl like you, your loving will survive. I've been waiting for someone new to make me feel alive. Yeah, waiting for a girl like you to come into my life.”—Foreigner   


(Lucius)  


Grinning smugly, Lucius swiped his dick along the slippery seam of her sex. She hated smug, but he was beyond reproach. He deserved to gloat. At least a little. He’d provided her with something that had actually made her happy— _very_ happy by the feel of things—and that success had left him with a profound sense of satisfaction; it felt as if he’d finally done something right. Something worthy.   


Something worthy of her.  


Of course he did other important things, like handling the Malfoy fortune and expanding their wealth, but for some reason investments no longer held the magic they once had. The bank paled in comparison to his new home life, which was a startling revelation for a man who'd spent the majority of his adulthood building his empire in the gold-plated bowels of Gringotts. If he could find some way to merge his interest in finances with his devotion to Severus and Hermione, he’d be thrilled; but those two had the most blasé attitude toward money—it was almost as if it didn't matter to them. Severus wanted for nothing except potions ingredients, and Hermione asked for even less.  


But that peculiar selflessness was part of what had drawn him to her. She was a species with which he had no experience, a confusing combination of mystery and forthrightness . . . strong ethics mixed with a smidgen of cunning . . . and enough altruism to choke a Good Samaritan. A rare creature indeed.  


Lucius didn’t really understand why she spent her days fighting for the rights of a bunch of beasts she barely knew, but he was in awe of her tenacity. Her ability to find hope in the most dire of circumstances was probably the only reason he stood a chance with her. Where others saw only greed, she saw a spark of generosity. In her eyes he was charitable. And that made him see himself in a new light. Maybe he _was_ generous. He certainly wanted to give her everything he could.  


But the more he tried to give her, the more parsimonious she became. All he wanted to do was spoil her, and all she wanted to do was live like a damn monk.  


So far he’d found only one way around her frugal fortress. Her ready acceptance of the pleasure he offered gave him hope that he had something valuable to share and that he would get the chance to provide more for her in the future.  


But he wasn’t averse to the current currency. If it was kisses and cock she desired, he would make sure she was rich in both before the night was out.  


Pressing his forehead to hers, Lucius nudged his glans into her buttery folds, smearing his leaking tip over her silken entrance. “Is this what you need, princess?”  


Whimpering softly, she nodded, too overcome to speak.  


Lucius dragged his engorged head across her swollen clit, shifting it from side to side until her eyelids began to flutter. “I must say, these restraints are wonderfully inspirational. I’ve been picturing you in all sorts of compromising positions this week. But now that I have you hovering an inch above my cock, I can see that my imagination didn’t do you justice.”  


A drunken smile curled her lips, and she lifted her head for a kiss.  


Lucius met her halfway, gently invading her mouth until she was mewling around his tongue and digging her heels into his lower back in demand of his services. Her royal highness was almost ready. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he drove the length of his cock along her slit, grazing every slippery landmark in his path and teasing her with the promise of what was to come.  


When a moan of exquisite desperation rolled from her sweet lips, Lucius leaned back to look into her eyes, where he sought out the gold glimmer that surrounded each pupil. He needed that reassurance of desire before he could take her.  


There it was, pulsating even harder than her little clit. His dick leapt high, tapping at her furrow with a manic fervor that struck him as comically importunate. Hermione seemed to find it more cruel than funny, and with a ravenous growl, she locked her legs behind his back and held him captive, her pelvis punishing his teasing by furiously humping the hard plane of his pubic bone. For the sake of his sanity and endurance, Lucius had to rip his hips from hers and take a deep breath. Patience was a fickle commodity in such a hostile market.  


When his cock proved itself capable of some control, Lucius reached down and, holding her gaze, dipped his tip into her sheath. “Are you ready for this, princess?”  


“Yeeees!”  


Malfoy grinned and pulled out just so he could penetrate that quivering noose of satin fire a second time. “I had no idea interior decorating had such an effect on you.”  


Her head darted forward, and in a surprising display of dominance, she caught his lower lip between her teeth. The sharp pinch tugged at his balls, and his hips instinctively lunged forward; but no longer aligned with her opening, he simply slid past and skimmed her arsehole, which drew a sharp hiss of approval from his wicked queen.   


Severus was suddenly there behind her, his hands running along her sides and then brushing over Lucius’s arm with just enough pressure to make every hair on his body stand on end. The smell of him had Malfoy's mouth watering—the musky scent of testosterone mingling with her sweet need, blending together like cream and sugar.  


“Did you still want that spank-fucking, Miss Granger?” The dark chocolate baritone of Snape’s inquiry was nothing short of orgasmic.  


“Please, sir!”  


“Are you sure you’re not too sore?” Snape taunted with a smile, and Lucius felt the thick prod of his ample erection between her legs, slicing along his shaft like freshly forged steel.  


Lucius rocked forward, and Hermione moaned incoherently as they crushed her body between theirs. She threw back her head, hitting Snape’s shoulder, and Severus flashed him a conspiratorial smirk before nuzzling her ear with the tip of his nose.  


“Do you want more? I could stretch out your tight little bottomhole while Lucius fucks you. Does that sound nice . . . Lucius’s thick cock filling your pussy while I fill your arse?”  


“With your fingers?” she asked excitedly.  


“Mmmm-hm,” he hummed. “I know how much you love my fingers.”  


Her eyelids sank lower as his teeth grazed her ear. “Yesssss,” she hissed. “Pleeeease.”  


Severus’s lips spread in a devious smile, and when he met Lucius’s eye, Malfoy saw a glimmer of playfulness there he hadn’t seen in decades. It was an unexpected blast from the past—one that caused a rush of exuberance to coat his stomach like a hot toddy of warm memories.  


Leaving his cock to fend for itself, Lucius reached up and grabbed the back of Snape’s head, holding him in place for an impromptu oral ravishment. Severus, ever the cool customer, didn’t seem caught off guard by the attack in the slightest; on the contrary, he returned the kiss with a passion that curled Malfoy’s toes. A whimper of need came from the witch between them, and Lucius groaned as she began to grind against him, causing his cock to sluice though her juice and bounce against Snape’s length.  


Severus drew back with a curling grin and, in a low voice, told him, “Draco says he wants to shag her alone on the bed when we’re through.”  


Lucius shrugged. “I guess that’s fair. He did win the bet.” If Draco wasn’t smart enough to request first crack at her, that was his problem.  


Snape kissed her raised arm and leaned his face against her stretched tricep. “What do you think, should we give her pussy a double shot of Slytherin’s finest . . . or should we give her another bath—a nice _cream_ bath for our Gryffindor princess?  


Lucius shook his head. “We just had a bath. It seems a bit redundant to give her another.”  


“Totally pointless,” Snape agreed sarcastically. “I guess we’ll just have fill her up. Why don’t you get started while I . . . give her a taste of our _speciality_.”  


Chuckling silently, Lucius nodded. He knew what that meant. Severus was on a mission, training her body to crave a cock in every hole. She’d be addicted to the sensation of double penetration before they ever even suggested it. One day soon, when she begged for them both, they’d combine their talents and show her what she’d been missing.  


But what about Draco? Lucius glanced over at his son, who was casually leaning against the foot of the bed and watching the three of them as he slowly stroked himself. He looked fairly calm, which was a surprise considering how he usually looked when he was left out of the action. But this time no pout could be detected. That boy was up to something. It was far too suspicious that, in a room filled with every imaginable kink, his son wanted nothing more salacious than a simple tumble in the sheets.  


Lucius’s pondering was derailed by his bound queen, who was attempting to work him into her cunt by shimmying up his trunk like a tree-climbing dendrophiliac. “Eager, aren’t you?” he asked as he slipped a hand between her thighs; Snape’s stiff sword battled his own, and Lucius gave it a conciliatory squeeze before pushing him aside and seating his own head in the heat of her hollow. The urge to plunge into that sauna with one mighty thrust was unbelievably tempting, but he knew better. Hermione didn’t want brutal force; she wanted control. She wanted to feel every inch.   


“You know what I like to hear first,” Malfoy purred against her cheek.  


Huffing anxiously, she threw back her head, almost braining Severus with her cranium. “Please fuck me, Lucius. I need your cock sooooooo much.”  


Severus stifled a snort and held her head still so he could kiss her temple. “What about my cock? Isn’t he welcome in Hermione’s hideaway?”  


“Yessssssss,” she groaned as Lucius slowly penetrated her. “Need you . . . and Draco . . . inside me . . . fucking me.”  


Each ingress cut off the flow of her words, spacing her pleas into the seconds between thrusts. Severus held up one hand and Summoned the lube, catching it easily and flipping open the cap in a blur of fingers. His hands disappeared behind her, and Lucius assumed he had cast a silent cleansing spell, because she sucked in a shivery gasp and erupted in an outbreak of gooseflesh.  


 “Arch that back, little girl. Let me see,” Severus said as he tilted his head sideways to get a good look at her rump.  


Whimpering piteously, she flopped her head onto Lucius’s shoulder and arched her lower back, which caused his cock to hit at a new, and rather stimulatory, angle. Lucius swallowed his moan and closed his eyes to center himself. He’d been dying to fuck her since they’d stripped her for the bath, but now that he was inside her—her slick walls grasping at his shaft, the smell of her arousal filling his lungs, the constant prod of Snape’s leaking hard-on tapping his balls—Lucius’s dick had decided to start calling the shots, threatening to overrule his brain’s commands to stay calm. He couldn’t have that. Not now. Not their first night in her new room.  


“Look at that arse,” Severus muttered to himself. “Make it dance, Lucius.”  


Snickering, Lucius jiggled her glutes, shaking her bouncy bum for Snape’s amusement.  


Severus smiled and gave her flank a light smack just above Lucius’s hand. “Spread her wide. I want to make sure she feels this.”  


Getting a firm grip on both cheeks, Lucius pulled her open and exposed her dark crevice to the light. She made a noise that sounded like a cross between a guttural cry and choked moan, and Severus flashed him a look that had Lucius on the brink of riotous laughter.  


“Such a good girl,” Snape murmured. “Always ready to come for us. Let’s see how much faster you come with two fingers in your naughty hole.”  


Hermione sank her teeth into Malfoy’s shoulder, muffling her happy “hmmmmm” as Snape eased into her arse.  


Severus must have expected a bigger response, because the ante was upped immediately. “How about three fingers?”  


“Uuuuuuunh!”  


“Y-e-e-e-s,” Severus chuckled. “You love that, don’t you, little girl?”  


Lucius dug his nails into her flesh, desperate to hang on until she came. That was easier said than done now that he could feel Snape’s magic fingers stroking his shaft through the wall of her rectum.  


“I think a good girl spanking will be sufficient tonight,” Severus rumbled. “Come as hard as you can. Show Lucius how much you love the way he fucks you.”  


He leaned back, giving her bum a loud smack, and every muscle in her body jolted. Lucius buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes in an attempt to rally his concentration and maintain the going rhythm.  


Severus continued with a volley of light but quick slaps, at the same time thrusting his fingers even deeper into her arse to tip her toward climax.  


The trouble was, it was having the same effect on Lucius. He was hanging on by a thread. If she didn’t come soon, the pressure in his groin would cause irreparable damage.  


Lucius saw no option but to go on the offensive. “Come for me, princess,” he whispered in her ear. “I know you’re there. Let me feel that pussy.”  


A raspy cry exploded from her lips, and in that same moment, her thighs clamped around his hips. Lucius exhaled harshly as her pussy began to pulse, her inner muscles imprisoning his manhood in their relentless grip. Giving in to her passion, he submitted to the bollock-draining climax he’d been denying himself for hours.   


As the final dregs of seed pulsed from his depths, a sense of relief seeped through his veins, blanketing his body in her warmth. Coming inside her always left him strangely calm. Not just come-calm. Alive calm. Energized. It was hard to explain even to himself.  


Perhaps her pussy held a magic that had yet to be identified.  


"Pull out," Snape whispered. "But keep hold of her. She’s got more for us.”  


In a post-coital daze, Lucius let his cock slip free and then readjusted his grip on her glowing backside to assist with the transition. There was no need to guess when Snape had successfully breached the tight confines of her sex; her delirious shouting and head-banging tipped him off.  


“Look at me, princess.”  


Hermione met his eye, her face knitted with agony, as if she were on the verge of tears, except her jaw hung loose and her lower lip trembled with moans rather than misery. Lucius sealed his mouth to hers and ate her wanton shouts as Snape used his advantageous angle to target her g-spot. Every incursion elicited a small shriek that vibrated against Lucius’s lips, rendering her kisses lethally hot.  


Apparently Snape was in a hurry, because there seemed to be absolutely no warmup once he was in, just the juttering slam of his cock wracking her pussy like an earthquake. Hermione screamed, and her entire body went rigid as she was pounded to completion. A stream of her arousal splattered Malfoy’s thigh, and he smiled as it trickled down to his knee, marking him with her lust. Fucking hell, that girl knew how to come. The wet squelch of Snape’s thrusting filled the room with crass strains of sexual music, and Lucius’s dwindling prick lifted its head in interest. It knew that song well.  


Severus hissed, and as his fucking stuttered to a crawl, he closed his eyes and dropped his face into her hair, his uneven breathing the only indication he was coming. That sweet little chalice of hers was going to be overflowing with holy wine tonight.  


When he was wrung dry, Severus kept his face in her hair, but blindly reached around with one hand and cupped her pussy. “Did you give Lucius another bath?”  


Hermione groaned tiredly in response.  


“Yes, she did. More of a shower though,” Lucius told him.  


Severus snorted and raised his head, holding onto her hips as he carefully extracted himself from her limp body. “Nothing like a nice summer rain to round off the evening. Are you all right, Miss Granger?”  


Hermione nodded, still trying to catch her breath.  


 “She’s mine now. Let her go,” Draco said out of nowhere, his voice low and commanding.  


Lucius and Severus both turned to him in surprise. What the hell had gotten into that boy? Draco’s grey eyes were fierce with determination, and Lucius was almost proud to see him looking so decisive.  


Almost.  


Snape caught Lucius’s eye and gave him a sleepy but devilish smirk before shrugging one shoulder. “To the victor go the spoils.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allegro—Brisk or rapid in tempo.
> 
> “I’ve Been Waiting for a Girl Like You to Come into My Life”—Foreigner. Written by Mick Jones and Lou Gramm. Released in 1981. The song lists at number 80 on "Billboard's Greatest Songs of All Time".  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=BrzzR-3PPqw>


	45. Affettuoso

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The next chapter will be released by itself, so hopefully it won’t take me as long (although it does need to be rewritten). See you all soon.

45—Affettuoso  


“In my life there's been heartache and pain; I don't know if I can face it again. Can't stop now, I've traveled so far to change this lonely life. I wanna know what love is; I want you to show me. I wanna feel what love is; I know you can show me.”—Foreigner   


(Draco)  


Severus and his father gave each other an inscrutable look, but Draco didn’t much care what they thought. He’d won the bet, and he wanted her all to himself. On that big fluffy bed. Away from prying ears.  


Severus inclined his head in acquiescence and backed away, settling into the white rocking chair near the door. Lucius took his time, kissing her head and whispering an unnecessarily long farewell as he set her on her feet, but he eventually stepped aside and sprawled out on the leather ottoman with a knackered sigh.  


With the two of them out of the picture, Draco was consumed by the stunning vision before him. She was spellbinding. Even with her hair frizzing out in a poofy wreck. Her eyes were half-lidded, as if she were blissed out of her gourd, but it was the accompanying sated smile that gave her that beautiful debauched glow. If ever there was a well-fucked witch, it was this one.  


The black leather cuffs were lovely, but he didn't want her tied up. He needed her arms around him, holding him. What fun would it be if she couldn’t touch him? Wasn’t that just punishing himself? Placing a hand to her hip, Draco drew her in until she was so close her nipples raked his ribs. “Would you like to come down from there?”  


Hermione nodded. “My arms’r tired.”  


Smiling at her sex-drugged slur, Draco deftly unfastened the cuff from her right wrist, and her arm flopped down around his shoulders like rubbery dead weight. When he undid the other wrist, she wrapped him in a hug, but there wasn’t much strength behind it.  


“You seem a bit weak. Should I let you rest?”  


“No,” she assured him as she nuzzled his jaw. “I can keep going—as long as I don’t have to lift anything heavy.”  


Draco snickered, a slew of dick jokes springing to mind. “I’ll do the lifting. You just relax.” Firmly gripping her arse, he hoisted her up, and she squealed in shock, snaking her legs around his hips so she wouldn’t fall.  


Her giggling lit up his heart like a string of fairy lights. “Does this ride happen to go to the nearest bed?” she asked. “I relax best when horizontal.”  


“Me and all, love,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re in luck. It just so happens this is a one way trip to Bedfordshire.”  


Laughing, Hermione curled into the crook of his neck and proceeded to nibble him senseless as he steered them across the room. It was a hell of a way to travel. Draco had never really carried her around before, but now that he’d given it a go, he was rather enamored. Maybe they should try fucking against the wall. Or maybe she’d be up for a game of Mummies and Daddies, and they could pretend they’d just come home from their honeymoon so he could carry her over the threshold.  


_Mmmmmm_ _, Hermione in a wedding dress. So pretty and—_   


_Wait! Stop that. Remember the plan? Don’t get distracted._   


Draco set her on the foot of the bed and pecked her forehead. “Your premium bedside delivery comes with complementary valet service. Just put your feet up.”  


She gave him an amused look and narrowed her eyes as if he'd said something suspicious.   


Touching one finger to the center of her chest, Draco tipped her backwards. “I said put your feet up.” Before she could react, he grabbed her by the thighs and pushed them to her chest, exposing her creamed pussy to the light of the room.  


Hermione lifted her head and peered down at him, her eyes bugging out, but Draco just grinned and pressed a kiss to her quivering hamstring. Then another to her cane-striped bum. _Mmmmm_ _, warm._ Trailing his mouth toward her inner thigh, he worked his way north, tiptoeing along the periphery of her pussy. He wasn't being sneaky, just apprehensive. The thought of consuming two wizards worth of jizz kept him from diving in with his usual gusto—especially when he knew half of it was his father’s—but actions spoke louder than words, and he needed to make sure she knew that his desire for her was unconditional. Immutable. Whether she was Nanny Granger, or Snape’s little girl, or Lucius’s princess, Draco loved her. Even if she was currently a spunk sampler of epic proportions. It didn't matter. She was everything to him.  


Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the scent wafting from her core. It actually didn’t smell bad—the sharp aroma of semen complemented the musky sweetness of her excitement, the opposing fragrances harmonizing in unexpected ways. Using his two middle fingers, Draco parted her labia and watched as a glob of pearly fluid oozed from her opening and dribbled into her arse. _Please let that be Snape’s._  


Before he could talk himself out of it, Draco buried his face in her slit and devoured everything within reach.   


“Aaah!” Tearing at his hair, Hermione yanked his mouth off her clit, and Draco looked up, meeting her gold-flecked eyes through the valley of her cleavage.   


She blinked several times, obviously at a loss for words, and he smiled slyly to indicate he understood the full impact of his gesture.  


When her hand relaxed, he returned to her glazed depths and began to slowly lave every inch. He wasn’t going to suck it out of her or anything; he just wanted to get her ready for her next orgasm. With him.  


Although, now that he was down there, Draco had to admit that, despite his fears, everything tasted rather pleasant. Perhaps it was more appetizing because it had been inside her—she had transformed it into some kind of Granger sex soup. The more he licked her, the more enticing the flavor became.  


That was a relief. Of course he’d swallowed semen before, so it wasn’t as if he was averse to the taste—he just wasn't keen on one of her sources. But that didn’t seem to be an issue. Draco wasn’t even thinking about the Malfoy-on-Malfoy cannibalism; he was too distracted by the unexpected combination of flavors swirling over his taste buds. Maybe Snape had some kind of genetic abnormality that made his semen preternaturally palatable. Or maybe he just ate cratefuls of pineapple. Apparently pineapple made your jizz taste like candy; Draco had been gorging himself on it just to make sure Hermione kept coming back for more. But maybe Snape had read the same article and had created some kind of pineapple-penis potion to get her hooked on his junk.  


That didn’t sound like something the Potions master would do, but you never could tell.  


Hermione moaned and sank her nails into his scalp, holding his face down as she ground her pussy into his tongue. _Shite!_ Was she ready to come so soon? He hadn’t even been down there a whole minute yet. Had he? Draco wasn’t so sure. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gone into an altered state while dining at Chez Chat. Pussy time didn't run like regular time.  


Dammit! He wanted to stay there a bit longer, but the goal had been to prime her with his tongue so he could bring her home with his cock. He needed his mouth for other things. Forcing himself to stick to the original plan, Draco kissed her clit goodbye and crawled up so his hips settled into the warm valley between her thighs. Hermione reached down to put him in place, but before she could get there, he grabbed her by the wrist and held her at bay. If she started pawing his wand now, he might lose his mind. He needed to go slow so he had time to think.  


Lightly pinning her arm above her head, he curled his hips, nudging her downy lips with the tip of his dick. She smiled up at him and arched her back so he was tucked into the saturated cove of her entrance. Fuck! _Thank you, love. I wasn’t nearly close enough before._ Releasing her wrist, Draco scooped both hands beneath her shoulders and locked her in place. He couldn't have her banging into the headboard on a night like this.  


Without warning, she did some kind of swirly hip drop that forced his head inside her opening, and Draco almost choked on his own tongue. Salazar’s slithering serpent! Did her vagina have a fever? Why the fuck was it so hot in there? What biological purpose could that serve? Her inner muscles clamped around him, making it impossible for him to retreat. Well, he could have . . . he just didn’t want to. It was so much nicer doing things her way. Burrowing even deeper, Draco felt the firm resistance of her cervix, and his knob began to weep as if it had returned to the holy land after an eternity in exile.  


She made a noise low in her throat, and Draco dipped his face to her neck to kiss her carotid. “Hermione?”  


“Mmmm?”  


He gently rocked his hips, bumping her core with each soft grind. “I have to tell you something.” He couldn’t stop thinking about what Snape had said about being honest.  


“What is it?”  


Draco suddenly felt queasy, his stomach heavy as a lead paperweight. Once he spoke, there would be no going back. Ever. But that was okay. He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to go forward. With her. And he prayed she wanted to go forward with him.  


Using his pubic bone to engage her clit, he found a rhythm that made her thrash beneath him. Excellent. He’d been dreaming of this moment for years, and he wanted everything to be perfect. But it was hard to be perfect when he was scared out of his mind. Terror tended to muddy the waters. It wasn’t that he thought she’d reject him—it was just so hard to lay everything on the line. His heart had been through enough in his life, and he doubted it could take another beating.  


But it could do with some mending.  


Draco raised his head and met her eyes, and she gave him the doziest smile he’d ever seen. Her fingers danced over the hair fringing his neck, and a prickly line of goose pimples shot down his spine, pulling his skin so tight his balls rose. Merlin’s beard! She was killing him.  


“What is it, Draco?”  


He glanced over his shoulder to make sure his father and Snape were still out of earshot. They were.  


_Okay._   


_Here we go._   


_Don’t be sick all over her._   


_That would definitely ruin the moment._   


He swallowed hard and kept his gaze locked on hers. Those eyes could sustain him through the fires of hell and back again . . . and he’d gladly run that gauntlet right then if it bought him another minute of reprieve. He wasn’t ready for this. It was horrifying. Yet he’d never wanted anything more. Taking one last deep breath, Draco touched his lips to hers and whispered the three words he'd been longing to say for the past two years: “I love you.”  


Hermione stared at him blankly for a few seconds, and just when he felt his last meal crawling up his esophagus—certain he'd ruined everything—she broke into a wobbly smile, her big brown eyes filling with tears. “I love you too, Draco. So much.”  


He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and his stomach loosened the knot of panic that had been tying up his guts like an overinflated balloon animal—possibly a poodle. “You sure?”  


Hermione sputtered out a short laugh and wiped her eyes. “Yes, I’m very sure. Very _very_ sure. Are you all right?   


He nodded. “Just having a minor cardiac event—should be fine in a jiffy.”  


Smiling, she sniffed her running nose. “I can’t believe you said it first. I was going to tell you soon . . . when we were alone and the time seemed right.”  


That actually made him feel considerably better. He’d been _just a little_ paranoid that she’d only said it because he’d said it first. “It was eating at me.”  


Hermione nodded in agreement and pulled his face to hers for a quick kiss. “Me too. I love you, Draco. More than I can say. Bloody hell.” A deep sigh whooshed from her chest. “I feel so much better now.”  


Draco returned her kiss, ecstatic to see she was as relived as he was. “I know what’ll make us both feel even better. Are you close?”  


“So so so so close,” she said, countering his hip thrust with one of her own. "I just need it a little faster.”  


Oh, thank Merlin! Now that his heart had been set free, his bollocks were rioting for equal dispensation. _I’m working on it_ , he promised them. Draco stayed deep, but he increased his pace to Optimal Fucking Speed. The pounding beat caused the surplus of fluid pooled inside her to loudly squish out around his cock, a sound which his balls seemed to interpret as a call to arms.  


She sealed her lips to his, and Draco grunted as her tongue shot into his mouth. Gods, he loved it when she did that. Some demented part of his brain wanted her to suffocate him with kisses. Death by snogging. As if she'd heard his silent wish, her hand clasped the back of his head so he couldn’t move, locking them together on every level, and Draco’s cock surged with ferocious approval.  


His bollocks threatened to outdistance her, but he pleaded with them to last just a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes. The mantra calmed his racing heart.  


Her body tensed once with pre-orgasmic tension and then fell limp. Sweet Circe! That was too close. _Stay the course, Draco. You can make it. Just a few more minutes_. Thirty seconds later her legs flexed around his hips, and her body began to buck. As soon as he felt the first tight seizure strangle his cock, he gave up the battle with his sac.   


And the forfeiture was glorious.  


Her pussy spasmed around him, milking him of everything he had to give, causing his heart to hammer painfully against the wall of his chest, as if the strain of coming was too great for his body to bear. Tears of effort sprang to his eyes, the pressure inside him almost unbearable. It was like trying to funnel an ocean of emotion through an opening no wider than a grain of rice. Flooding her with his love was his only means of survival.  


As her orgasm dissipated, Hermione ripped her mouth from his to suck in a lungful of air. “Gods! That was . . . so good,” she gasped. “Bloody hell!”  


Draco blinked a few time to clear away the sparkly lights framing his vision. “Hear, hear.”  


“That was a helluva fuck,” she panted.  


He hid his smile in her shoulder. “That wasn’t a fuck.”  


“No?” she whispered then kissed the spot near his ear that made his dick jump. “Certainly felt like a fuck.”   


“Now that we're properly boyfriend and girlfriend, we have to call it making love.”  


Hermione burst into a fit of silent laughter, her head thrown back in breathless cackles. Draco didn’t know what to make of that. He wasn't joking. Couldn’t she tell the difference between fucking and what they’d just done? It felt as if he’d ejaculated his heart and soul into her.  


“You are the sweetest Slytherin ever,” she said, triple kissing his cheek to punctuate the last three words. “But everything you do to me would qualify as ‘making love.’ Even when you just hold my hand, I can feel the love radiating off you.”  


Draco turned his head to look at her. “Can you really?”  


“Of course I can. And if I can feel that from your hand, imagine what I can feel when you’re inside me.”  


Draco smiled and brushed his nose against hers. “What does it feel like when I’m inside you?”  


Hermione gave him a curious look, but she must have figured he wanted a real answer and not some platitude, because she bit her lip the way she did when she was thinking. “Well, I guess I would say it’s like . . . I'm floating down a river of happiness . . . on a sunny day . . . totally naked and free.”  


He knew exactly what she meant, and his stomach did a celebratory backflip, jubilant that he was the cause of her joy. “Kiss me one more time before I pull out. I want to remember you just like this.”  


Her gaze softened, and with the softest touch, she drew him in and gave him the most memorable lip-lock of his life. His internal organs all began to melt, and he marveled at how pleasant it was to be liquefied by love.   


When he pulled back, she blinked at him sleepily, and Draco smirked as he brushed the damp hair from her temple. “You ready for real bed now?”  


Snickering, she nodded. “Real bed. Yes. I can hardly be expected to sleep in this pretend bed.”  


“It is nice in here, but I don’t want to sleep in it.”  


“Too much leather?” she asked with a smile.  


“Very sweaty,” he concurred. “Plus I don’t want to trip over your stable of cocks on my way to the loo at four in the morning.”  


“Don’t be rude, you know their names are Lucius and Severus. And I think you might enjoy tripping over Snape at four in the morning. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”  


He feigned shock. “Did you just insinuate that Lucius and Severus are your personal harem? Ooooo, I’m telling Snaaaaape. He’s gonna spaaaaank you.”  


“Draco!” she said, laughing as he wiggled out of her. “Don’t you dare. I was just kidding.”  


He gave her a playful peck on the nose. “I know you were.”  


Hermione grabbed him by the face and quickly pressed her lips to his. “You’re part of the Hermione Harem too. I’m going to put you in charge of breast worship.”  


His brow quirked. “I accept the position, but maybe you’d better put me in charge of first aid.”  


“Why?”  


“Because Snape’s going to light your arse on fire when I tell on you.”  


“You wouldn’t!”  


“I don’t think you fully comprehend just how much I love seeing you over Snape’s knee.”  


“Don’t you do it, Draco,” she warned him with a giggly grin. “You know Nanny Granger’s going to return the favor the next time you’re in trouble.”  


“Ah. Well, that’s settled it.” He nodded as if he’d come to his senses then looked over his shoulder toward the door. “Severus, you’ll never believe what Hermione just said. _And_ she said you didn’t have the balls to spank her for it. I think somebody needs to be taught a lesson.”  


It seemed his first act as first aid coordinator would be reattaching his nipple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Affettuoso—Musical direction to play with affection and tenderness.
> 
> “I Want to Know What Love Is” by Foreigner. Written by Mick Jones and released in 1984.  
> “[It] was the first single released from Foreigner's album Agent Provocateur. The song features backing vocals from the New Jersey Mass Choir affiliated with the Gospel Music Workshop of America, Dreamgirls star Jennifer Holliday, and featured keyboard work by Thompson Twins frontman Tom Bailey. The choir also appears in the song's music video."--Source: Wikipedia  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=raNGeq3_DtM>
> 
> I made a conscious choice to not use an artist for the chapter quotes more than once EXCEPT when I wanted to link those chapters in some way. I won’t say what the similarities in this instance are as they are multifaceted, and stating them aloud would give away too much of the story; but feel free to draw your own conclusions.


	46. Andante Con Moto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well crap. This took way longer than I planned. But it turned out I had to completely rethink and rewrite this chapter from scratch. The original, although hot, wasn’t what the story really needed. And thus, the current chapter 46 was born.  
> I am feeling way better (which has, conversely, hindered my writing). My stomach problem was extremely bad gastritis (inflammation of the lining of the stomach) and the fix is an easy one; it’s just going to take a while to heal itself. (Thank you again for all your well wishes.) But once I was feeling better, I couldn’t stand to sit still. (Three months of being in bed will do that to you.) So I’ve actually been busy doing other stuff and—*gasp*—leaving the house. It’s been quite exciting.  
> But I’m back in the writing groove now, and I’ve been poring over this for a couple weeks, so hopefully you all enjoy it. The next chapter shouldn’t take nearly as long, as it’s in decent shape right now and only needs my obsessive, repetitive editing. See you soon. (Knock on wood.)  
> P.S. Thank you for all the reviews. They keep me going.

46—Andante Con Moto

“You treat me like I'm a princess. I'm not used to liking that. You ask how my day was. You've already won me over in spite of me. And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet. Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are. I couldn't help it; it's all your fault.”—Alanis Morissette

(Hermione) 

Hermione found herself in a field of wildflowers; sprays of vibrant color dotted the tall green grass like confetti. Draco was naked atop her, and judging by the lance jabbing her thigh, he was ready to fuck her al fresco. Locking her in his arms, he rolled to his back and smiled delightedly as she rose above him. The wind picked up, blustering through the flowers and swirling her hair into a blizzardy beehive. She pushed back a few blinding strands and felt the first warm drops of rain spatter her arm. But when she looked to the sky, she saw no storm clouds. How strange.

It was just a light drizzle—actually rather pleasant. Refreshing. Going inside wouldn't be necessary; plus she didn't want all that good cock to go to waste. Draco pulled her back down for another snog, and she pressed her bare body to his, eager for his affectionate embrace. As their fervor grew, the rain began to fall faster, going from a spotty sprinkle to light precipitation.

“I love you,” he murmured against her mouth.

Hermione grabbed the back of his head and obliterated his lips in fevered kisses. With a heady groan, he held her as tightly as he could, tumbling her over the cool grass and flattening the flowers like a steam roller. When she was back on top again, she pried her lips from his and grinned down at him. “I love you too. Do you think you’re ready to tell me what you really want now?”

“What I really want?”

“You don’t have to hide anymore. It’s okay. You can tell me.”

His brow knitted, and he glanced about, as if searching for witnesses. Finding none, Draco sighed and, avoiding her gaze, fingered a blade of grass that had become plastered to her nipple. “I . . . I want you,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “in my arse.”

“You’re a very naughty boy,” she giggled. “Does Nanny Granger need to show you how to be good again? I think we should st—“

“Hermione.”

Was that Severus? She looked around for a body to go with the voice, but they seemed to be alone in the field.

“Hermione.”

She blinked open her eyes to find Snape stroking her face. In bed. No flowers anywhere. Draco was behind her, and although he was naked and erect, he seemed to be laughing too hard for a successful field-fuck.

Closing her mouth, which must have fallen open in her sleep, Hermione fought the buzzing grogginess clogging her brain. “Wha’s wrong?”

“Nothing much,” Snape replied lightly. “We just found it difficult to sleep through your somnambulant leg-humping. And I _definitely_ can’t sleep with someone biting my nipple.”

 _What?_ “I was not.”

“Yes, you were,” Lucius chirruped. “And moaning. Loudly.”

Snape's uncompromising hand guided her head back to his chest. “We would have let you finish yourself off, but you were getting pretty physical.”

“Was I really?”

“Mm-hm.” Draco wiggled his stiff cock between her cheeks, as if putting it to bed for the night, and then curled the rest of his body into her back. “You woke up my dick. Now he doesn’t want to go to sleep.”

Grinning, Hermione rolled her hips against him. “You didn’t spunk me, did you? I dreamt it was raining.”

Draco snickered, his breath warm on her neck. “No, I didn’t. Maybe you were spattering yourself with the cum leaking out of your pussy.”

Snorting at the mental image, she slipped her hand between Lucius's palm and Snape's chest, drawing a sleepy smile from her other blond bedmate. “Could be. You’d better hold me down tonight to keep me from hurting anyone.”

Draco tightened his arm around her. “Can do. Night, Hermione.”

“Goodnight again, love.”

He kissed her head one more time, and Hermione swore she could _hear_ him smiling. She wanted to tell him she loved him but didn’t know if she should blurt that out in front of Severus and Lucius. The two older men might be jealous, and she wasn't sure how Draco felt about publicly declaring their feelings toward one another; he'd been rather secretive in the playroom.

She’d ask him later. When she was more awake.

And who knew, maybe if Severus and Lucius saw how well things had gone for Draco, they'd be inspired to admit how they felt too.

Love could be contagious like that.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Monday evening Hermione trudged home from the Ministry. Alone. Draco had to attend some kind of international liaison dinner, so he was staying behind. Apparating to the manor without him by her side was disconcerting to say the least. The lack of groping left her feeling oddly adrift. And what would she do when she got home? How was she supposed to fill her time before dinner? Severus had been tied up in his experimentation lately; he probably wouldn’t be game for anything until after dessert. Would Lucius pick up the snogging slack in Draco’s absence? Was he even home yet?

She got her answer as soon as she stepped through the front door. Lucius was waiting for her in the foyer, looking even more ravenous than usual.

“Hello, princess” he murmured as he drew her in for a kiss, his lips warm and welcoming. “Did you have a nice day? I missed you. Let’s go upstairs.”

Hermione burst into a surprised laugh. He wasn’t beating around the bush, was he? “I have to go say hello to Severus first. He likes to know when I get home.”

“He’s just down there cursing at his cauldrons. Leave him to his potions, love.”

Hermione stood on her toes and pulled Lucius down for another kiss. “I’ll meet you in the playroom in a few minutes.” Her fingers wandered over his placket, and she felt him grow hard in her hand. “Don’t you dare start without me.”

He smiled and, as she spun around, smoothed his hand over her arse. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

“Mmm!” she growled, leaning into his touch. “I promise I’ll be right back.”

He patted her bum, and she set off, racing through the halls and clambering down the steps to the dungeon. It was a bit nicer down there now, but heels and flagstone floors didn't mix well. She almost turned her ankle on a cobbled corner. 

Arriving safely, she found Severus hard at work, hunched over his favorite cauldron. Onyx eyes narrow and hard, he methodically stirred the contents within, his posture wired with concentration. Not wanting to interrupt him, Hermione remained silent and gently slipped her arms around his waist for a behind-the-back hug.

“Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen . . .” he counted under his breath, his focus unwavering, but his left hand communicated his pleasure by stroking her fingers. When he reached twenty-one, he pulled the stirring rod from the viscous green goo and set it on the counter.

“How was work today?” he muttered.

“Productive. How was brewing today?”

“Complete and utter bollocks. This is my third attempt.”

“Want me to help?”

He shook his head. “It’s probably best for everyone concerned that you find Lucius as soon as possible. He took half the day off work, and he’s been positively despondent about your continued absence. Why don’t you go see if you can get him settled down before dinner.”

Hermione smiled at Snape’s euphemism. “Okay. We’ll be in the playroom if you want to join us.”

His attention had shifted to the rising level of sludgy brown liquid filling his beaker, but he managed to mutter an absent, “Yes,” in reply.

Hermione knew when he was lost in his work, and she refused to become a nuisance. Kissing his back, she unwound her arms and left him to his brewing. 

Just as she stepped into the corridor, he called after her, “Hermione!”

She looked back in alarm. “Yes?”

Severus was silent for several seconds, his profile blank, as if there hadn’t been a clipped urgency in his voice only a moment before. Bracing both hands on the counter, he sighed and dropped his head. “I missed you today.”

Hermione stood there, dumbfounded. Had she seriously just heard a voluntary admission of tender longing from Snape? That couldn’t be—not unless . . . Had someone forgotten to tell her hell had frozen over? She didn’t know how to respond. But she knew she'd better think of something fast, or he might never say anything ever again. “I missed you too. You know, I think about you all day, Severus. All the time.”

His shoulders drooped, the tension fading, and he lifted his head but didn’t turn to look at her. “I’ll come and get you when dinner’s ready.” Picking up a phial of white powder, he went back to his brewing as if nothing had happened.

Hermione nodded, giving him one last thoughtful look before heading to the stairs. She honestly never knew what was coming next with him; he was quite a conundrum. His affection was only released in small bursts . . . at certain times. Sex brought out a softer side of him, but normal, everyday situations were often stilted by uncertainty. For someone who could purr out the most devious sexual ideas without batting an eye, he was tight-lipped when it came to heart-felt confessions. She knew exactly how hard it must have been for him to risk everything and give voice to those four simple words. He’d admitted something personal, and he’d done so with no prompting. His spontaneity and initiative were just as impressive as the sentiment.

Blinking back a rush of tears that had sprung from out of nowhere, Hermione smiled to herself, almost laughing at the lightness dancing through her soul. She had a feeling there was an avalanche of emotion in that man just waiting for the right rock slide. But until she found the load-bearing stone that, when plucked, would crumble his walls, all she could really do was keep telling him how much he meant to her. And hugs. She would hug him until he was blue in the face. Chipping away all that hurt and mistrust would take time, which, fortunately, she had plenty of.

When she got back to the kitchen, she dried her eyes on a tea towel by the stove and peered into the oven. Some kind of casserole bubbled inside, and she was grateful she’d have something heartier than cum to fill her belly soon. Not that she wasn't looking forward to a serving of semen—Lucius _was_ particularly tasty. Her pussy twitched at the thought of Malfoy waiting for her in the playroom. He’d seemed awfully eager to get her up there; and she was damn curious to find out what he had in store.

‘ _Then what’re you doing down here?_ ’ her pussy demanded. ‘ _Malfoy needs just as much lovin’ as Snape. You’d better go hug down some of those defenses while he’s in the mood.’_

Inspired by Muffy’s words of wisdom, Hermione ran up to the second floor, scampering around the corner, and falling out of her heels in the process. That was okay; it was doubtful she'd need them. 

When she burst into the room, Lucius was pacing the floor, but when he saw her, he hurried over with a relived smile.

“There you are. Was Severus still brooding over his cauldron?”

She nodded. “How long has he been down there?”

“Most of the day. He went down after lunch.”

“Did you give him a good luck kiss for better brewing results?”

Lucius laughed as if that was absurd. “I’ve explained this to you before—that’s not how we do things. Kissing Severus is strictly foreplay. It’s not like you and I, where we just do it whenever the mood strikes.”

“Maybe you should.”

His smile became more wistful. “Severus isn’t like you, love. He doesn't welcome my attention at all hours of the day. Snape kisses when it suits him.”

“He snogs me whenever I please. Maybe you just need to ask.”

Lucius chuckled and moved in close, the heat of his chest setting her nipples alight. Placing his hand to the side of her face, he let his fingers drift along her cheek. “You have a knack for bringing out Severus’s better half. I’m not even in the same league.”

Hermione smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist, raking her nails down the back of his crisp white shirt. “Sure you are, and I like it when you and Severus are sweet to each other.”

Lucius pulled her in so her head rested on his chest and then placed a kiss to her bushy crown. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me sweet except you. And I’m positive no one’s ever called Severus sweet . . . and lived to tell about it.”

“Narcissa never told you you were sweet?” She was flabbergasted.

“Narcissa told me I was many things, but sweet wasn’t really in her vocabulary. Or perhaps she thought the word would piss me off.”

“But you are . . . you know . . . when you’re not sneering at everyone and sticking your nose in the air—you’re very sweet.”

He held her tighter. “I wasn’t always the way I am now. After the nightmare of those last years before the final battle, I didn’t have much time with Narcissa. Things were tense. And . . .”

He was silent for a minute, and Hermione wondered if he’d forgotten what he was going to say or if he just didn’t want to say it. “And you changed even more after she died,” she whispered, hoping he wasn't offended by her presumption.

“Yes,” he breathed into her hair. “Maybe I was never sweet to her.”

“What! How could even think that? Of course you were sweet to her. You adored her. You still do.” Hermione hugged him harder when she felt his body go rigid. “And I think that’s wonderful. Your love is so strong not even death can diminish it.”

“You’re not upset that I’m in love with another woman? A dead woman.”

Hermione squeezed him with all her might. She couldn’t believe he was openly discussing something so painful. Did Slytherins save up their most uncomfortable conversations for one particular day? “No, I’m not upset. It tells me that you don’t take love lightly, that it means everything to you. And just because you love Narcissa doesn’t mean you don’t care about me. Or Severus. Or Draco. You can hold as many people in your heart as you want to. There’s no maximum capacity.”

"I don't know what I did to deserve you,” he whispered, “but I’m damn glad Draco caught you masturbating in my library.”

Hermione laughed into his chest. He was getting uncomfortable; she could hear it in his voice. She’d go along with his lighthearted lead; he’d been brave enough for one day. “Not as glad as I am that I saw you and Severus going at each other like a pair of horny Nifflers.”

“A fortunate night indeed.” He pressed his mouth to the top of her head and sighed contentedly. “I missed you so much today, princess. I almost went to the Ministry to hunt you down.”

“I’m glad you restrained yourself. I’d have quite a time explaining why Lucius Malfoy was shagging me on my desk.”

He barked out a laugh and tipped back her head to look in her eyes. “That shagging is overdue. I hope you’re ready to pay the penalty.”

“With interest,” she assured him.

Lucius chuckled as he leaned down to kiss her. “I can’t compete with your percentage rate.”

His tongue darted past her lips, and Hermione was caught off guard by the desperation hovering just beneath his desire. She knew that kiss. Some days Lucius needed more from her, more patience, more care, more attention; and Hermione was always eager to meet his needs, because it meant she got to see Lucius in a rare state of vulnerability. But while she relished those brief moments of transparency, she was always left wondering if she'd handled them correctly. Was there something she could do that would encourage more from him? What did he need most? Draco’s rampant vulnerability required nurturing, but she couldn’t very well coo at Lucius and tell him what a good boy he was. Lucius didn’t want to be taken care of—he wanted to do the caring . . . or more precisely the providing.

He needed to be someone’s hero, someone’s _man_. He needed to be her rock . . . and her love—because he wasn’t made of stone. Well . . . parts of him were, but so much of what he sought to hide was soft and giving. He seemed to revel in romance, longing to be her white knight both in and out of the bedroom. She didn’t currently need rescuing, but she understood the value of a good quest to make a man feel successful.

Keeping her lips to his, but pulling back so she could speak, Hermione whispered against his mouth, “I need you, Lucius. Inside me. Make me come. Hard. Make me scream.”

He growled and sealed his mouth to hers. His kiss gradually became less desperate and more purposeful, his tongue sure and calm. She sank into him, letting the weight of her body fall into his arms so he was supporting her. His hands were everywhere, gripping her rump and drawing her against the hard heat of his distended trousers.       

Hermione bucked against the solid line of his arousal. She wanted that. Now. “Please, Lucius,” she panted. “Need you.”

His hands moved to her waist, and as he slid them up her sides, he drew out her top so its wrinkled tails were pulled from her skirt. “Let me undress you first, love. I’ve been taking off your knickers in my head all damn day. Give me a chance at the real thing.”

Hermione smiled and went for his belt. “Gods, yes. Tell me what you thought about.”

His breath was warm on her face, his words buzzing her skin, “Your buttons opening one . . . by . . . one.” He pulled them free as he spoke. “Your breasts . . . wrapped in satin and lace.”

Her nipples stiffened as he parted her shirt and exposed her flimsy bra. The one he’d bought for her in Italy.

Lucius hummed approvingly and slipped off her blouse with one hand. “Satin and lace that _I_ chose especially for my pretty little princess. Sweet Circe, how are you even more beautiful than I imagined?”

Smiling, Hermione let her head fall back, exposing her chest fully. He buried his face in her neck, and an unintelligible cry leapt to her lips. When his teeth scraped the curve of her throat, her body erupted in gooseflesh, and she was instantaneously transformed into a bundle of raw nerves, her skin blazing under his touch, her rational mind fleeing the scene. The smooth expanse of his palm skimmed along her lower back, and her heart began to pound as he followed the path of her spine north. He must have felt the pulse in her neck throbbing under his tongue. How could he miss it? It felt as if her arteries were about to explode

The back of her bra popped open, and she shivered as his fingers wandered beneath the loosened cups. His hands covered her, lifting her, and she gasped when the pad of his thumb brushed the tip of one turgid nipple. “Yes!”

Lucius grunted in response and ran one perfectly manicured thumbnail around the perimeter of her areola.

Her body started to quake, and a shot of lubrication dripped into her knickers like melted ice cream. Merlin, Circe, and Morgana! How was she so wet already?

Tearing at his placket, she reached for the thick assurance of his passion. Her fingers dove into his silk boxers, and she clasped his unyielding flesh in her hand, needing to feel the power of him surging in her grip.

“Mmgh!” His growl swerved as she stroked him from root to tip. “Careful, princess. I’ve been nursing that all day. It’s likely to go off without warning.”

Hermione looked up, her eyes meeting his, and the immensity of his desire slammed into her like a wrecking ball. Breathless, she stared at him in wonder. There was so much she felt for him in that moment she couldn’t separate one emotion from another. It was like trying to give each grain of sand on the beach a title: love, lust, affection, need, want, strength, care, devotion, give, take, soul, body, stamina, home, repentance, foundation, beauty . . .

It was everything Lucius made her feel, everything he was . . . but so much more, because, ultimately, it was impossible to differentiate the sand from the beach. 

Lucius was Lucius. And she loved him for who he was as a whole, good or bad. He was hers. And she wanted him so much it hurt.

“Make love to me,” she whispered.

His steely eyes glinted. “What did you say?”

Tipping back her head, Hermione dropped her arms so her bra slithered to the floor. “Make love to me. Make me yours.”

Growling low, possibly in warning, Lucius touched his lips to her shoulder. His breath spilled over her back and dripped down her shoulder blade like warm caramel. “Your wish is my command.”

Her knees went soft, and Lucius urged the rest of her body to follow their lead. Bracing her spine with one hand, he dipped her low—so low the room up ended, and Hermione’s head began to spin. His mouth met the taut skin stretched over her sternum, and he glided through the valley separating her breasts before swooping left to capture her nipple. Crying out, Hermione went limp, encouraging him to devour her as he pleased. His teeth and tongue battled one another for dominion over her ripe tits, but it was his lips that proved victorious. He latched on and sucked until her skin burst to a flame in his mouth.

The heat consumed her. “Lucius!”

Quick as a whip, he pulled her back up, his face an inch from hers, his eyes and lips swirling in her vision. The glimmering pools of his pupils had expanded at least three fold, and Hermione found herself mesmerized by his gaze.

Grasping her hips in his iron grip, Malfoy pulled her against his groin, giving her a taste of his potency, then spun her around so her bum got the benefit. “Bend over.”

His voice crackled with need, and the sound rattled through her sex like an orgasmic gong. Shuddering violently, she practically fell forward onto the enormous leather ottoman. Lucius tore her skirt to the floor, but growled in frustration when he found his path barred by nylon.

“No,” he grunted, as if furious with her pantyhose. “Stockings or nothing.” And with that, he ripped those down as well, leaving her in just her knickers, the rest of her clothes puddled around her feet. “This,” he hissed, crouching down behind her, his mouth roving over her sensitized skin, “is what I’ve been dreaming about all day.”

His lips brushed the underside of her buttock, and Hermione’s knees gave out.

But she didn’t fall. 

His arms kept her aloft. Safe. 

“Shall I make this mine as well?” he murmured, lips tickling her bum.

“Uuunnh!”

His mouth continued to sample her backside as he drew her knickers over her hips and down her legs; his ragged exhalations blasted her fissure like magma spewing from the bowels of a volcano. She couldn’t control her body, which trembled with spastic tremors as he neared her sex. When his nose traced the borders of her pussy, sniffing at her lust, the Richter scale shot up to ten, and she almost jittered herself off the ottoman.

Lucius didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. Palming one cheek, he spread her open, and Hermione’s eyes went wide as the tip of his wand grazed her crack. His muttered incantation spread through her, and the minty high left her riding the edge of climax. It wasn’t quite enough to push her over, but the sudden arrival of his tongue got her a hell of a lot closer.

“Ahhhhhhh!”

Bloody hell! Who would have guessed that such a fastidious man would be such a dirty arse-eater? There was no hesitation; his tongue flickered directly over her anus, the tip of it slipping inside for the occasional teasing taste. Overwhelmed by his insistence, Hermione found herself temporarily incapable of vocalization. For at least a minute, her mouth opened and closed, but despite her valiant efforts, no sound would emerge.

Until his tongue shot all the way up her arse.

Then she had a whole lot to say.

“Oh bloody fucking bugger! Please Lucius! Fuck me. Fuck my arse. Please! I can’t take this anymore!”

He murmured agreeably, and Hermione’s hips went mad; she was riding his face, desperate to get his wicked tongue as deep as it could go. “Pleasepleaseplease! Lucius!”

With a final plunge and swirl, he drew back and ran one hand down her bum. “Step out of your clothes, love.”

She did as he asked, her feet fumbling with the floor.

“On your hands and knees,” he murmured. “I have a surprise for you.”

A surprise? Holy fucking hell! Witches who couldn’t walk shouldn’t be subjected to any unnecessary surprises.

“That’s it . . . just arch your back. Let’s get you comfortable.”

Although the ottoman was thick and cushioned, she was beyond any hope of comfort; until she came, the tension binding her pelvis would only sharpen.

Lucius moved into her peripheral vision, and Hermione looked up at him, praying that her expression conveyed the severity of her need, because she didn’t think she could form a sentence coherent enough to beg for mercy. And he didn’t appear much more rational. His shirt had been discarded, and she could see the steep expansion of his abdomen with every quick breath. Her brain automatically accepted his lust-addled respiration, but she was mystified by his missing shirt. When had he taken it off? And why hadn’t he taken it off sooner? That man should never wear clothes. Seeing him standing over her—bare chested, his trousers open, cock tenting his boxers—was like being smothered in sex. She couldn’t breathe.

He must have found her delirium somewhat amusing, because he smiled softly when she met his eye. Running the tip of his wand along the ottoman, he nodded at her knees, and Hermione looked down to see what had drawn his attention.

The leather beneath her was shifting, the area below her belly growing outward, rising toward her. She watched it dumbly. It was difficult to process mutating furniture when she could think of nothing except sating her body with his therapeutic cock. Why wasn’t he fucking her yet? Was this really the time to redecorate? 

When the surface had grown into a large leather wedge, the high end poised to prop up her hips, it froze, and Hermione looked to Lucius for an explanation. His trousers were gone, and she blinked at him in shock, assuming the sight of him stroking his swollen cock to be a hallucination. It wasn’t. How had he gotten out of his trousers so fast? Did he vanish them? Wasn’t that a rather wasteful way to undress?

“Just a few more alterations,” he muttered.

His wand tapped the wedge, and Hermione watched it carefully to see what would change. A pronounced hump swelled in the center of the highest peak, and something sprouted up from the rear like a thick antenna.

“And my favorite piece,” he said as he walked behind her and retrieved an object from the bureau.

Hermione strained to see what was in his hands, but she couldn’t make it out before he knelt down behind her. Something soft brushed her inner thigh, and she moaned as it trailed around her groin toward her pelvis. Peeking between her legs, she watched as he slid his new white fur mitten to the hump below her and, with his wand, affixed it to the leather. He grabbed the protrusion at the back and lowered it out of sight, his other hand patting her bum so she’d lie flat.

“Relax your body,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you.”

A shiver rolled up her spine, and the words, “Yes, sir,” sprang to her lips unheeded.

Lucius’s chuckle sounded oddly like choked arousal. “While I enjoy hearing that, I am _not_ your sir, princess.” His hands guided her down so her clit rested directly against the fur speed bump at the corner of the wedge. “Save that master and commander shit for Severus. You know what I like to hear.”

Hermione smiled and pressed her cheek to the cool leather. For some unknown reason, she wanted to cry again, except this time it felt more like relief than incredulous joy. Her body went slack, and she spread her legs as wide as she could. “I need you, Lucius.”

The ottoman dipped as he knelt behind her, the bristly warmth of his legs touching hers. Satin soft, his glans bumped her rump, and Hermione arched her back to invite him in, which, as per his plans, mashed her clit into the silken fur between her thighs.

“Uuuuungh!”

“I thought you might enjoy that. Let’s see if you like this as well.”

Holding her breath, she sank her teeth into her lower lip, gnawing it raw as he eased something into her pussy, something she’d never used before. It wasn’t hot or thick enough to be his cock, but it was insanely smooth like the velvet skin of his knob. There was a lot of give to it, yet it held its shape, parting her walls and filling her full.

Lucius leaned over her back and pushed her hair aside to whisper in her ear. “How’s that feel?”

Licking her lips, Hermione searched for the right words to describe the anxious energy warping her core. “It’s nice.” Her voice broke with need. “But it’s not you. Please, Lucius. I can’t wait any longer.” That time, her voice hitched, and she swallowed down the desperate sob that threatened to escape.

“I’m right here,” he whispered reassuringly, and with one hand, he reached between her cheeks and swiped a huge pool of lube across her arse. “Let me just make sure you’re ready.”

Two slippery fingers dipped into her back passage, and her lower half automatically relaxed, as if she’d been trained to associate anal fingering with total submission. Except she hadn’t been taught any such thing—and despite her outward physical response, her body was actually on the brink of an explosive release; she could feel it building, the telltale tingle of imminent orgasm rushing over her senses.

Another finger breached her back door, and Lucius’s appreciative groan tickled her neck. Pulling out, he grabbed hold of his dick and gave it a few fast pulls to spread the lube along his length. She could feel the sloppy wet meat of his head brushing her arse, leaving behind a cluster of tantalizing damp streaks. Her pussy pulsed with anticipation, and a deluge of juice seeped out around the intruder in her vagina.

“Tell me you want me,” he breathed in her ear. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Her head careened in five different directions at once, the need in her so great she couldn’t see straight. The pressure of his swollen manhood rested against her twittering hole, and if she’d had any kind of leverage, she would have flung herself backward and speared herself on his pike. Incapacitated as she was, her arse jammed up into the air so the blood rushed to her head, all she could manage was a broken, pleading wail that stuttered into dry sobs of agony.

“Shhhhhhhh,” he purred, his dense knob edging into her bum. “It’s all right. Feel that? Feel how full you are? Isn’t that nice?”

As soon as he passed the first tight ring of resistance, Hermione was struck by the vast meaning of the word full. The faux phallus in her pussy seemed to swell inside her, pressing against her front wall with each gentle thrust. Everything was packed tight. She could feel every vein in his shaft, every twitch, every pulse.

“Aaaaaaah-h-h-h,” she whimpered into the leather, her panting exhalations hot against her own face.

He went still. “Are you all right?”

She nodded furiously.

The slow incursion resumed. “Thank Merlin. I think I might have lost my mind if you’d asked me to stop.” He rocked in and out of her, loosening her up and plunging a bit deeper with each advance. “Gods, I needed this! I missed you so much today, love.”

His hand wrapped around hers, and Hermione smiled as a snuggly stream of warmth trickled through her stomach.

He bottomed out, his pubic hair rasping her cheeks, and there was a sparkling moment of pure ecstasy as their bodies fitted together like magic. Hermione was about to pop, her pussy bulging with bonus cock, but it was his shaky breath on her neck that propelled her toward the finish line. He might’ve been simply fighting the urge to come, but she knew restraint wasn’t the sole cause of his rattled panting. That he could be so overwhelmed by her—just as she was by him—made her heart ache.

It ached for the man he had once been . . . and the man he endeavored to become. But most of all it ached for the man he was now, the one buried balls deep in her arse who wanted nothing more than to fill her life with pleasure, but who played a cautious hand, afraid that he would once more fall short and lose the woman he loved.

Hermione knew what he wasn’t saying. He loved her as much as Draco did, and she felt the same for him. But she would wait until he indicated that he'd come to terms with the idea, because Lucius had a lot more baggage when it came to love, and she didn’t want him to feel as if he had to abandon the memory of his wife in exchange for her heart. He would admit his feelings in his own time. There was no rush.

Interlacing her fingers with his, Hermione squeezed his hand in return. “Kiss me.”

His nose trailed along the side of her face, and he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. “The angle’s bad—the only downside to this configuration.”

“Please. I need to come.”

His hips began a slow assault on her arse, and she groaned as he pulled out even further before sliding back in. Clutching his hand, she held on for dear life. Every tiny movement buffed her clitoris against the fur and shifted the auxiliary cock in her pussy. Gods, how she wished that thing would move!

“Come for me, princess. I want to feel you.” His lips brushed her cheek in a whispered kiss.

“More!”

Unsure if she meant kisses or fucking, he gave her both, his mouth continuously peppering her cheek with languorous love, and his steely cock working even deeper into her tract.

Hermione’s eyes filled with tears. His efforts to please her never waned, and those kisses, even if they weren’t the oral relief she needed, were so touching she felt as if their souls were weaving together in a lover's knot. For someone as guarded as Lucius, actions spoke louder than words, and she was staggered by the intimacy engendered by his simplest caress. This wasn’t his usual grandiose display of carnal delights; this was a raw Lucius, his hopes and fears frightfully close to the surface, desperate for the solace only she could provide.

His hips plunged to the hilt and then snapped hard, reaching for more, hitting some secret spot that had her seeing stars.

“Huh!” Fuck! What the hell was that? It felt as if he’d drilled all the way through to her spinal cord. Every snappy thrust that followed sent a rippling shiver of energy skittering up her vertebra. She was reeling, falling into his web of sensorial bliss.

“Mmmm,” he purred between kisses, “You are so fucking beautiful like this—I don’t think I can hold off much longer.”

“Come!” she blurted out. “Please!”

“Come where, princess? In your delicious little arse?”

“Yes!” And as soon as she said it, the finish line was rushing toward her like a runaway locomotive.

Lucius quickly found her lips with his, straining sideways to kiss her into oblivion.

She didn’t know if it was the kiss or the protective way his body locked around hers, as if he could calm the convulsive jitters that had descended on her body, but her orgasm took hold with a strength that literally blinded her. White light blotted out her vision for the next minute, and she couldn’t tell if she was about to pass out again, or if so much of her blood flow had been diverted to her pussy that her eyes could no longer function. 

But her lungs were certainly still working. Even with Lucius’s tongue in her mouth, she was screaming incoherently, the release too powerful to stifle.

He pulled back after a few seconds, his own grunts building to a crescendo as his cock began to swell inside her. She could feel each pulse like a heartbeat in her sphincter, and the resulting warmth that filled her passage only served to prolong her climax.

As the spasms faded, Hermione’s scream went hoarse and died on her lips. They were both out of breath and covered in sweat, the leather slick beneath her.

“Are you all right?” Lucius croaked.

She grunted an affirmative.

His lips found her face again, and he kissed a trail back to her ear, where he nudged her hair out of the way with his nose. “I don’t think I can walk yet, but I can get up if you’d like to breathe.”

Clutching his hand to keep him in place, she groaned disagreeably. His cock was slowly deflating, and Hermione couldn’t bear the thought of him retreating back into himself, physically or emotionally. She wanted to keep him just as he was for as long as possible.

A sleepy purr rumbled from his chest, and Hermione smiled. That was what she wanted to hear—her most assiduous lover luxuriating in their shared contentment, celebrating a job well done.

“Thank you, Lucius.”

“For what, love?”

“For this. For everything you do. For being so good to me.”

He dropped his head against hers and pressed his mouth to the back of her neck. It took him a minute to respond, and Hermione wished she could see his face so she could gauge his state of mind—but perhaps he could be more up front when he wasn’t in the spotlight.

“I should be thanking you,” he said, his voice tight. “You’re the one who’s so good to me . . . good _for_ me. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Hermione.”

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she pulled his hand under her chest, pinning it against her heart. “I don’t know what I’d do without you either. No one else makes me feel the way you do, Lucius. You know that, right?”

“I’m glad. I want to be what you need.”

“You always are,” she whispered.

He was much quieter after that, and she wanted so much to turn around and check his aura.

“Did you enjoy the dual penetration this evening?” he asked in a falsely lighthearted tone. It was obvious he’d become too affected by their conversation and was trying to change the subject. 

“You know I love everything you do to me.”

“How would you like to try the same thing but with Severus instead of silicone?”

Hermione blinked open her eyes and stared across the room as she pictured them both smashed up against her, filling her with everything they had. She didn’t know if her body could handle that, but she damn well wanted to try. “Do you really think you’ll both fit?”

His chuckling ruffled her hair. “We’ll go slowly. Take our time. Let your body stretch. Even if it doesn’t work, we’ll have a good time finding out what you like.”

“Have you suggested it to Severus yet?” she asked with a smile. Now that he’d planted the idea in her head, she was keen to give it a go. “Does he want to be in my pussy or my bum?”

“I go where I’m needed,” Snape said from the doorway.

Lucius startled and lifted his head to look over his shoulder. “Bloody hell, Severus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“My apologies,” Snape replied easily.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to catch Miss Granger’s impressive money note.”

“Damn spies,” Lucius muttered under his breath. “Have you come to join us, or were you just waiting to give me a heart attack?”

“I came to tell you dinner was ready. I thought you both might be hungry.” He sounded amused. “I made cake for dessert.”

Hermione’s stomach gurgled loud enough for all to hear. “Cake? What kind of cake?”

“Chocolate cake,” Severus answered.

“Oh gods,” she groaned. “Let me up, Lucius. I need cake.”

“Do you now?” he laughed. “I suppose I could be convinced to release you . . . in exchange for a kiss.”

Grinning, Hermione turned her head so he could reach.

“No, I mean a proper kiss. I have no desire to wake up tomorrow with a sore neck. Just give me second to return our accommodations to their original settings.”

Hermione squeaked as the leather wedge began to deflate. Lucius stayed propped on his knees, and as she sank down, his softened prick slipped from her hole with a farewell squelch. The dildo disappeared as well, and Hermione was left devastatingly empty, sprawled atop a damp swatch of soft fur.

“Turn over for me, love. Don’t make me beg.”

Lucius beg? It didn’t sound plausible—but there was no denying the gruff pleading in his voice. Twisting around onto her back, she looked up at him, her disheveled Prince Charming. His eyelids were lazy and low, his face lax with post-coital peace. And his aura had shifted from a pulsating blood red to a vibrant ruby with swathes of sapphire swirling around his chest.

Opening her arms, she drew him in, hugging him to her and hooking her legs around his hips to keep his wilting wand from catching cold. He smiled and kissed her, a small note of happiness passing from his mouth to hers. Hermione welcomed his tongue with a moan of her own, and clung to him as he caged her in with his body.

Who would have ever thought the day would come when Hermione Granger wanted nothing more than to be trapped beneath Lucius Malfoy? On the surface it sounded preposterous. But in her heart, he felt like home.

Lucius drew back with a sleepy smile and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead with the edge of his thumb. “I have to go on a business trip tomorrow. I won’t be home until late.”

“That’s okay. I need a few days to recover before we try it with Severus.”

He smirked. “I meant I’ll miss you.”

“Oh,” she said with a guilty giggle. “I’ll miss you too. Very much. You’ll be home before I go to sleep, won’t you?”

“I hope so, but I’m not sure. It could run late.”

“If I’m asleep, wake me up so I can kiss you.”

He smiled. “I shall.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up before dinner, Miss Granger,” Severus murmured. “I know how much you love both cake _and_ cream, but we don’t want you sticking to the furniture.”

Hermione gave Lucius a sly look before countering Snape’s proposal with one of her own. “Will you give me a bath?”

“How about if Lucius and I both give you a shower. He needs to clean up too.”

Hermione hummed in approval and ground her pussy into Malfoy’s semi-solid erection; he grunted and gave her a disbelieving look before dissolving into reluctant chuckles. Severus had no idea he’d just inspired a new fantasy obsession with that one suggestion. The Slytherin shower room sounded like the perfect place to recruit ample cocks for her Willy World Cup ambitions. She already had three first-string contenders.

“Last one in’s a rotten augury egg!” she declared, and with a sportsman-like slap to Lucius’s muscular arse, the game was begun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andante con moto—Slowly but with movement
> 
> “Head Over Feet” by Alanis Morissette. Written by Alanis Morisette and Glen Ballard. Released in 1995 on the album Jagged Little Pill. (Ah, the soundtrack of my high school years.) <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=iBgP44KEf3Q>


	47. Teneramente

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, here we go. This didn’t take too terribly long. The next release will be two chapters, so it might take me a bit longer to finish. (But they’re in fairly good shape, so no major rewriting to slow me down. And they’re two of my favorite chapters, so I might get though them faster out of pure excitement. Who knows.)  
> On a side note, my friend, Desert_Sea (DesertC on FFN) finished her most recent story yesterday. If you haven’t read it yet, it’s At the Headmaster’s Discretion, and it's my absolute favorite of all of her fabulous works. Give it a shot if you’re not already a fan.  
> Hope you all enjoy this chapter. Happy reading. (And thank you all again so much for all the reviews and love. Hugs for all my longstanding reviewers.)

47—Teneramente 

“But tonight, you belong to me.”—Patience and Prudence  


(Draco)   


Draco hefted his weight onto his hands and popped out of the pool, flexing his chest and arms to tempt Hermione with a bit of the old pec-tacular magic. He may be thin, but he was cut, and he knew she liked the way his trunks clung to him after a long swim. When he chanced a glance in her direction, he was disappointed to see she was stretched out on the chaise lounge with her nose in a bloody book. For the love of Nimue! She was missing some of his best work.  


Picking up his towel and padding over to her chair, he wiped himself down, waiting for her to notice how delectable he looked fresh out of the water.  


Unfortunately, her focus on the written word was, as usual, unwavering—his efforts were completely wasted. He could parade around the yard with a big brass band and she probably wouldn’t even flinch.   


Hooking his thumb in the top of his trunks, he drew the waist down to point her gaze in the right direction. There were two shallow lines that ran from his hipbones to the base of his cock—lines he’d barely noticed before she came along—but apparently they had super powers. The mere sight of them made her knickers drop like a lead anchor. She’d dubbed them “lay lines,” and he hoped their influence was strong enough to draw her to the sacred site growing in his trunks. Bonehenge.   


Nope. Still nothing. Damn. He’d have to forgo the subtlety.  


Tossing his towel aside, Draco crawled up the foot of her chair and stretched out on top of her, resting his face on her stomach. She smelled of pool water and blue bathing costume. Propping his chin on her ribs, Draco looked up at her but was boob-blocked by her blasted book.  


With a frustrated huff, he tapped on the cover with one finger. “Helloooo. Can Hermione come out and play?”  


She raised the book a few inches and smirked at him through the gap. “Depends on what game you had in mind.”  


“Oooooh, so you aren’t a reading robot after all. I am relieved.”  


“If you’re going to be witty, I can go back to my story.”  


“No, no, no,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean it.”  


Grinning in triumph, Hermione carefully marked her place, set her book on the wrought-iron table, and then beckoned him closer with a curl of her finger. “Give us a kiss, love.” 

Draco broke into a delirious smile and scuttled up so they were face to face. Unwilling to waste another second without his lips on hers, he dove right in. This was his chance to have her all to himself, and he didn’t want to squander it. Lucius was at a meeting and wouldn’t be back until late; and Severus was down in his potion-dungeon, where he’d probably remain until dinner. For the next hour or two, Draco could indulge in the full Hermione experience without fear of interruption.   


When he pulled away for air, she threw back her head and gasped in a breathless laugh. “What was all that about?”  


“I missed you.”  


“Draco, I’ve been with you since we got home. We haven’t been more than twenty feet apart since five o’clock.”  


“I meant I missed being alone with you.”  


“Ahh. It has been a few days, hasn’t it? You should have said something sooner.”  


“I didn’t want to annoy you.”  


Hermione brushed back his fringe with her fingertips and nuzzled his nose. “You’re too sweet to be annoying. And I missed you too. I felt strange all last night until you came home.” 

“What d’you mean?”  


“I don’t know . . . just strange. Like a part of me wasn’t there.”  


“I would’ve much rather been home with you,” he said, wiggling down and resting his head on her chest. “What a bunch of bloody palaver—going on about which countries have the most money and debating which dignitary has the hottest mistress.”  


Snickering, she asked, “Who won?”  


Draco snorted into her breast. “That berk from Andorra. He’s been shagging his kid’s nanny. But . . . I didn’t let on that I’d hit the nanny jackpot. Your secret’s safe with me.”  


“That’s probably best,” she said, giggling under her breath. “Did you at least win for brainiest girlfriend or something?”  


“Mmmm,” he murmured, his mouth too distracted by her slick, blue nipple for an immediate answer. “You won for Best Tits Usually Hidden by a Book.”  


Her laughter made the world jiggle around him. “A dream realized,” she rejoined.  


“And then you won for Most Loved Witch. I was unanimous.”  


Hermione kissed the top of his head. “I love you too, Draco. Very much.”  


Malfoy sighed in relief. That was what he’d been waiting to hear. “Love you too.”  


“Draco, do you want me to tell you I love you when your father and Severus are around? Or would you prefer that I only say it when we’re alone?”  


“You can scream it at the top of your lungs in the middle of Diagon Alley if you like. I want everyone to know.”  


Her arms slid around his shoulders in a snuggly hug. “Good.”  


“Plus I want to rub their faces in it,” he added gleefully.  


“What! Love is not for making people jealous!”  


“I know. That’s just a bonus.”  


“Draco!”  


“What? It’s not my fault they’re too chicken to say it.”  


“That’s not fair,” she said in a warning tone. “They’re doing the best they can. And I don’t like hearing you talk like that. Do you remember what I told Lucius about not making fun of other people’s emotions?”  


“You mean the moment you successfully stuffed a sock in his pompous mouth? Yeah, I think I’ll be reliving that joyous memory until the day I die.”  


Hermione made him look at her. “Well, that rule goes for you too. I don’t want to hear you belittle your father or Severus like that. They’ve both been through a lot, and I can understand why their pasts might make it hard for them to say something so difficult.”  


“I’ve been through a lot too,” he argued. “But that didn’t stop _me_ from saying it.”  


“True,” she said, smiling softly. “But you were always more demonstrative than they were.”  


“Maybe that’s because I love you more than they do.”  


Hermione searched his eyes for a few seconds then combed back his hair again, raking her nails along his scalp so his eyes fluttered in ecstasy. “Draco, I love you more than I can possibly say, but I love Severus and Lucius too. I’m happy that you feel so strongly, but you can’t know what’s in their hearts.”  


He made a face. “Do you seriously love them? Like you love me?”  


“Yes.”  


“And you think they love you?”  


“I know they do.”  


“I don’t know how you can tell with Snape. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I prefer him over father; but that man is hot and cold. One minute he’s hugging you, and the next he’s in the kitchen glaring at the roast like he wants to murder the entire world. It seems like he’s only nice to you when you’re naked or pressed up against him.”  


She went still, and for a second, Draco thought he might have offended her; but then she resumed her finger-combing scalp massage and, in a calm voice, said, “Severus is complicated . . . like you and your father. He _is_ nice when I’m not naked; it’s just easier for him to show affection when it’s couched in the guise of sexuality. I think he’s taught himself that the only time it’s safe to feel anything is when he’s fucking.”  


Draco blinked twice, processing what she’d just said. “Where’d you come up with that?”  


“Observation. Lucius is very similar—he just doesn’t wait for the sex to come to him. He spreads out the intimacy, initiating contact when he needs to let off a little love. But the moment he thinks he’s crossed the line and revealed too much of himself, he deflects with sexual suggestion. I’ve been trying to ease them into the idea that emotions are not their enemies, but it’s hard to reverse decades of conditioning. They’re both starting to admit they care, that it isn’t just the sex, so some of it is getting through. But you know what has the biggest effect on them?”  


Fascinated by her insight, he dumbly shook his head.  


“You. They see you, Draco. They see you being happy and sad and angry and needy, and nothing bad happens—I still love you no matter what. They see you getting exactly what you want, even if it's just a hug or a kiss on the cheek. They’re seeing that it’s possible to express affection for affection’s sake, that they don’t have to wrap their emotional needs in a canapé of sex to sneak them past me. You think they’re ridiculing you, but they’re both envious of your freedom.”  


“Merlin’s beard, Granger . . . I’m scared to hear what else you’ve figured out about us.”  


A mischievous smile erased the thoughtful purse of her lips. “Oh, that’s just the basics. I haven’t even delved into the psychological abyss of your sexual psyches. So many telling and _juicy_ tidbits.”  


“Yeah? Like what?”  


“Oh, you know, just little things I notice,” she said nonchalantly. “You each have your own individual preferences and needs.”  


“Tell me.” What minefields had Snape and Lucius planted for themselves?  


“I don’t know if you can handle it,” she teased.  


“I can. Try me.”  


“Okay. Let’s start with you. You’re an intimacy junkie.” Her smile widened. “You prefer making love face to face . . . or breast to face as the case may be.”  


Unabashed, he nodded in affable agreement. “So true.”  


“But your fantasies are largely submissive in nature.”  


Was he blushing? Why the hell was he blushing? It wasn't as if that was a secret. “So what’s that mean, Doctor Granger?”  


“I’m not sure, but I think there’s more you’ve yet to reveal.”  


“What more could I possibly reveal?”  


“Oh . . . you know,” she said, shrugging lightly, “something super sexy you might have been too embarrassed to admit up until now.”  


Did she know what he’d been thinking? Was she saying she was okay with it? How had she guessed? “You’ll have to be more specific.” He wasn’t taking any chances.  


Hermione massaged the back of his neck, loosening the tension with a practiced touch. “The other night I had a dream. You and I were naked in a field of wildflowers. It started raining, but we didn’t go in—we just kept snogging and rolling around in the grass.”  


That wasn’t his fantasy, but it didn’t sound bad. “So did you want to go out on the lawn and get it on?”  


She shook her head, her smile growing. “In the dream I asked you what secret fantasy you’d been keeping from me, and you . . . admitted that you wanted me in your arse.”  


His face went hot—at least a thousand degrees. Pressing his forehead into the safety of her bosom, he hid his reaction. Hearing it said out loud was far more humiliating than he'd ever imagined.  


“I assumed you weren’t referring to fingers. Was I right?” she asked gently.  


His heart was like a sledgehammer chipping through his breastbone. Should he admit it was true? She didn’t seem put off by the prospect. “Maybe.”  


“Maybe,” she said, and he could tell she wasn’t fooled by his reticence. “I recognize that harness up in the playroom from the book Severus gave me. It’s for a strap-on. Some of those dildos aren’t for me, are they?”  


“Maybe.”  


“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Draco. I’ve been thinking about it since my dream, and I've become rather fond of the idea. I’ve never fucked anyone before—you know, with a dick. I think I might enjoy being the penetrator for once.”  


Draco peeked up at her. “Are you taking the piss? You really want to peg me?”  


Lips curling into a wicked leer, she stroked the side of his face. “That’s not all I want to do to you. I’ve been dying to try out that queening throne in the playroom. Maybe we should go upstairs and see how much Nanny Granger you can handle.”  


_Sweet. Fucking. Circe._ _Yeeeeees_ _!_   


“I’m going to guess by that look in your eyes that the thought of me sitting on your face is already making you hard. You’re going to be one needy little boy by the time we get to the buggering.”  


Fat chance he would last that long.  


“Ohhhh,” she said, laughing with delight. “You’re ready to blow right now, aren’t you? Well I don’t think so. Stand up. I don’t want you humping the furniture.”  


Stand up? Were his legs working? Ah yes, there they were. He backed out of the chair and staggered to his feet. Thank Merlin his cock hadn’t stolen all his blood yet; he was still mobile.  


Hermione’s eyes trailed down to the thick lump tenting his trunks, and she smirked knowingly. “Okay, new rules for this round of Nanny Granger. Use your safe word even if things just get too intense.”  


He wouldn’t.  


“But I want you to say yellow or hold up two fingers if things get uncomfortable. I don’t want to have to explain to Severus or your father how I suffocated you with my pussy. Is that clear?”  


“Yes, miss.”  


Sitting up, she dropped her chin and peered at him through her lashes, her brown eyes fierce. “Then we’ll begin. First things first—you won’t be needing these any longer.”  


Draco bit back his smile as she tugged his trunks over his hips, and the green material dropped to the ground with a heavy splat.  


“Step out of them,” she said, nodding at his feet. “Lay them out nicely so they’ll dry.” 

He did as she said, spreading them out at the foot of her chaise.  


“Spankings first.”  


_Yay!_ Draco glanced toward the house, eager to get to the playroom. When she didn’t rise, he realized she meant to do it by the pool. “What? Right out here where everyone can see?”  


Her gaze narrowed. “If you don’t want anyone to see, I suggest you get over my knee before your father comes home or Severus finishes in his lab.”  


With one last nervous peek at the house, he obeyed orders and lowered himself over her lap. His heart had resumed its terrified tattoo, threatening to burst from his chest like that Alien movie they’d watched the other week. She’d never risked their exposure before, and it added a whole new dimension to the proceedings.  


Hermione dropped her left knee so his bum was jacked up at a steeper angle then she swiped one hand over his cheeks and patted each side. “Now, tell me what naughty things you’ve done since you were last punished. I want to hear everything, and I know you want to get it off your chest.”  


Draco stared at the concrete, almost too aroused to speak. “I was a bad boy, miss.”  


“Go on.”  


“I . . .” He had to wrack his brain for an appropriate offense. He did want to unburden his soul, but he didn’t want to say something that would really make her angry. “I pouted.” She hated pouting.  


“And what have I told you about that?”  


Draco mashed his lips together and took a deep breath. All he wanted to do was respond, but some tiny part of his brain resisted blurting out words that would make him a laughing stock if anyone else heard. “Big boys don’t pout—they say how they feel.”  


“That’s right. Why were you pouting?”  


It was extremely difficult to think with her rubbing his arse like that. “You were sitting on father and not paying attention to me.” 

“Was I purposely ignoring you?”  


“No.”  


She slapped his left cheek. “No what?”  


“No, miss.”  


“That’s better. Did I pay attention to you after I spent some time with Lucius?”  


“Yes, miss.”  


“You need to learn patience. We’ll work on that later. What else did you do?”  


“On the nights you were with Snape or Father, I touched myself.”  


"And what's the rule?"  


“No touching myself without permission.”  


She pushed his legs apart and grazed the back of his balls with the blunt tips of her nails. “Do I need to start restraining you when it’s not your night?”  


“No, miss. I’ll be good. I just get frustrated when you’re not with me.”  


"I appreciate that. But you don’t need to abstain from orgasm when I’m not with you. You just need to ask my permission first. Can you do that?”  


“Yes, miss.”  


“Excellent. What else did you do?”  


“I tripped that wanker Johnson at work with a hex.”  


“Hmmm,” she hummed, trying not to laugh. “That was rude. Don’t do it again. But . . . Johnson is a wanker, so no spanks for that one. What else?”  


“I don’t want to say. You’ll get mad at me.”  


“No, I won’t. You know discipline isn’t about anger.”  


He took a deep breath, and the confession came tumbling out of his mouth with surprising alacrity, “I spit in Father’s coffee when he wasn't looking.”  


“Draco!”  


"See, you're angry with me.”  


“I’m not angry with you—I’m surprised at you. Why on earth would you do something so vulgar?”  


“He suggested that I take my coffee in a baby bottle and ask you to feed me.”  


“When did he say this?” Her voice had become preternaturally quiet.  


“Maybe a week or so ago.”  


“Before we went to Veronique?”  


“I think so.”  


“Okay. I’ll talk to him about it. But that doesn’t mean you can spit in his coffee. If something makes you angry, you come and tell me.”  


“Like a crybaby.”  


She sighed. “No. Like an adult. You’re allowed to be angry, Draco, and you’re allowed to want to retaliate. But that was just petty. And juvenile. I’m not saying you have to be serious all the time, but doing something like that just makes _you_ look bad.”  


Well, great. Now he felt guilty about it. He’d been quite proud of himself before her disapproval. “I’m sorry, miss.”  


"Is that it, or is there more to confess?”  


“That’s it.”  


“I think fifty with my hand sounds fair for all that. What do you say to me?”  


Draco squeezed his eyes shut and hoped Snape hadn’t finished his brewing early. “I’ve been a bad boy, miss. Please spank me till I’ve learnt my lesson.”  


“Keep those legs apart.”  


She smoothed her hand over his arse a couple times then, with a loud smack, white hot heat burst through his bum. The blows came slowly, but he was anxiously wiggling and jerking around before she got to ten. She was damn good at this now. Snape had taught her well. And how had she gotten so strong?  


Draco lost count somewhere around twenty. And he couldn’t stay quiet either. He didn’t cry, but he was hissing like a viper, gritting his teeth to fight the sting. It was about that time that he began to seriously rethink his actions. Was wanking without permission worth all this? Did she really want him to ask permission? Or was that just a game, another excuse for a spanking? He kind of wanted it to be an all-the-time thing. He wanted her to know when he was touching himself, and he wanted her to tell him his cock was hers.  


His arse was pretty much pure fire toward the end. He bucked against her thighs in glorious agony, fucking her soft skin the way he used to ride her couch cushions. It was strangely comforting.  


“Last ten on the inner thighs for masturbating without permission.”  


Fuck, there were still ten to go. “Yes, miss.”  


She gave his left inner thigh five fast smacks, causing his balls to duck and cover. The hits left behind a tingling heat that had him wincing and dripping with equal ferocity.  


“Get up so I can reach the other side. Bend over and put your hands on the seat. Legs apart.” 

Draco did as she said, watching her out of the corner of his eye.  


Standing to his right, she used her left hand to give his inner thigh five more sharp smacks. At the very end, he grunted and pulled away, but she didn’t reprimand him; she just placed her hand on his lower back and waited for him to calm.  


But calm was out of the question. All he wanted was for her to start a whole new round. A harder round. Maybe with the paddle. He didn’t know if he should be worried by that revelation or not.  


“All right,” she crooned. “It’s all over. You’re my good boy again.”  


Draco smiled. Being her good boy was disturbingly satisfying.  


“But you’ve gotten me all sticky. Kneel down and lick me clean, and then we can go upstairs.”  


He glanced at her legs, noting the golden hue she’d acquired after weeks of pool play. His pre-cum glazed her burnished thighs in small dull patches where it had dried.   


Kneeling before her, he bowed his head and lapped up everything he could find. The mild saltiness of his excitement blended beautifully with the warmth of her skin, and he found himself craving more. Dragging his tongue up her inner thigh, he pushed his luck and strayed far higher than necessary. That pussy was calling to him.  


“Mmmmmm,” she murmured, grasping a hank of his hair to pull him off. “I think that’s good enough for now. Or do I need to take you upstairs and get the strap?”  


If the promise of face-sitting wasn't looming on the horizon, he would have jumped at that offer in a second. As it was, he was far too desperate for sex to play the naughty offender any longer. He looked up at her, pleading with his eyes. “I'll be good, miss.”  


“Very well. Stand up. Hands on your head.”  


He got to his feet and assumed the usual position. His dick was already aching, and the prospect of what lay ahead wasn’t doing anything to alleviate his discomfort.  


Hermione ran one finger along his length, and when she reached the head, aimed him downward and slid off the tip so his erection bobbed obscenely in the open air. “This looks lovely. How does your naughty bottom feel?”  


_Ready for penetration_. “Hot, miss.”  


“I hope it reminds you what awaits future infractions,” she said, cupping his sac and squeezing lightly. 

A drop of fluid seeped from his engorged glans, and he watched in fascination as it painted her forearm. “Yes, miss.”  


She moved in closer, the heat of her body baking his side, and when she looked up, her eyes flared gold. Her breathing cast a cool breeze over his shoulder that countered the muggy heat of the evening, but it took him a second to realize she was sniffing him—and getting off on his scent. His brain and dick both decided that was exceedingly hot and worth a rowdy round of cock-twitches.  


As her fingers tightened around his bollocks, her thumb traced the underside of his shaft, gliding like a feather along his foreskin—two vastly different sensations warring for supremacy.  


“This is mine now,” she growled, and the firm possessiveness of her declaration made his balls clench.  


Over the previous months, she'd been slowly weeding out which phrases had the biggest effect on him, and she’d hit on a few that seemed to have magical powers. For instance, the words, “You belong to me,” made his dick do the hokey pokey.  A dance they both enjoyed.  


But sometimes all he needed was her ball-busting attitude. She could slip into that no-nonsense lioness persona so easily, which brought back fond memories of the swotty know-it-all he'd butted heads with at school. She’d changed since the final battle, becoming much less prim and persnickety; but the inner-prefect was still there, ready to whip him into shape and get down to business.   


She had channeled the drive that once fueled her straight-O average into her campaign for creature equality, and Draco could see how much it took out of her to constantly fight the system. It was clear she needed a break when she got home, and he knew that was why she gravitated toward Snape’s brand of domination. It was her stress-release. And that girl had a lot of stress. While Draco had adopted a take-me-or-leave-me attitude to survive the workplace, Hermione wore her heart on her sleeve day in and day out; it was part of her job. That had to be exhausting.  


Draco’s stress was more self-inflicted. He kept his hurt and fears on the inside. But with Hermione, he didn’t have to. She was his escape. Or his savior. She made it possible for him to purge his anxieties in a healthy way, and just being with her made him less anxious overall. Maybe that was why he was so addicted to her.  


“I love you,” he blurted out and then tacked on a hasty, “miss.”  


The corners of her mouth wobbled, but she nodded in understanding. “You know I still love you even though we’re playing, right?” 

“Yes, miss.”  


“Put down your hands and hug me. I know what you need.”  


Draco wrapped his arms around her, and she did the same to him, so he pulled her in, pressing his body to hers and melting into her warmth.  


“Uh uh uh,” she admonished, ripping her hips away. “No grinding. Just hugging. You know better than that.”  


“Sorry, miss.”  


“That’s better. Good boys don’t rub their cocks without permission.”  


“It aches, miss.”  


“I know. But we have some things to do first.”  


“Yes, miss. I’m ready.” _NOW!_  


She kissed his cheek, and the heat of her love blossomed over his face like bleeding ink. “Who’s my good boy?”  


“I am, miss.”  


“That’s right. And I’m so proud of you, Draco.”  


With no warning, his stomach lurched into his throat. She was proud of him? The elation of hearing those words was perplexingly painful, like a congratulatory punch to the heart. His reply came out a cracked whisper, “Why?”  


“For being so brave; for having the courage to be honest with me.”  


He couldn’t think straight; the profusion of bittersweet emotions evoked by her praise caused his brain to scatter. He wanted her say it one more time—I’m proud of you—but he was scared hearing it again would reduce him to a puddle of tears.  


“Plus you’re the sweetest boy,” she added. “Best cuddler in the house.”  


Draco breathed out a laugh. And then blushed. Damn straight he was the best cuddler in the house—but all the same, he hoped no one else ever heard her say that. Especially not his father. There were some things a man wanted to be known for, and cuddling skills didn’t rank high on the list.  


Placing one last peck on his neck, Hermione patted his chest. “We’d better head upstairs. Don’t want to run out of time, do we?” 

“No, miss.”  


“Then let’s get moving.”  


Draco bent down to get his trunks, but Hermione stopped him with a sharp smack on the arse.  


“You leave those there and let them dry.”  


Warily, Draco glanced over his shoulder at the back door. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed to walk through the house naked. It was that he was embarrassed to walk through the house naked with a red bum.  


What if his father came home early?  


“You’d better march, mister.”  


“Yes, miss.” Maybe if he got upstairs quickly, he’d be safe.  


Hermione followed behind him as they made their way across the patio. When he was inside, Draco did a frantic scan of the surroundings, but there was no sign of life. Severus wasn’t in the kitchen. The manor was dead silent. Thank Merlin.  


They headed through the halls, the cold air making him shiver. He’d had the evening sun beating down on him outside, but without its heat, his wet hair chilled him like a freezing charm, and the resulting gooseflesh pulled his skin tighter than a drum.  


Hermione kept patting his arse in the most demeaning manner possible, constantly reminding him of his nudity and sore bum. A fresh wave of humiliation colored his face. 

He fucking loved it.  


That was somewhat concerning, but he wasn’t up for self-analysis at the moment. They made it to the playroom undetected, and Draco heaved out a grateful sigh when Hermione locked the door behind them.  


“Go ahead,” she said, motioning to the queening throne with a nod. “Get in place while I get things ready.”  


Nodding blankly, Draco turned and found himself in a borderland somewhere between nervous excitement and zombified lust. He wasn’t thinking clearly—or at all—but he didn’t much care. Too much thinking could be problematic when a wizard’s imagination tended to get him in trouble. He didn’t want to come all over himself before they even got started.  


There was so much he wanted to do before blowing his load.  


The queening throne was basically just a small simple cube frame, except that the top looked like a blocky U, one of the square’s sides being missing so it sort of resembled a square toilet seat. Maybe that’s where Snape had gotten the idea when he was making it. In the cube’s center was a sling like a little hammock where he could rest his head, and Draco plopped down on his back to test it out.  


Not bad. He wouldn’t want to sleep there, but it was fairly comfortable.  


The simplicity of the throne offered many options. She could face in any direction and force his attentions on her slit from a variety of angles. Or she could just smother him. He’d be happy either way. His cock seemed intent on casting a vote, but Draco couldn’t tell if its flailing was in favor of the former or the latter.  


He reached down to restrain it before remembering he wasn’t allowed to touch himself. Snatching his hand back at the last second, he silently cursed his forgetfulness.  


“I saw that,” Hermione muttered. “Be careful.”  


“Yes, miss.”  


He heard a soft _fwump_ of fabric and raised his head. She was standing there totally starkers, her swimming costume in a blue heap on the floor. His brain began to flash warning signals, alerting him to the presence of her breasts and bush. Fucking hell, as if he needed any more reminders.  


Hermione plucked a riding crop from the wall and approached him with all the grace of her house’s mascot. “Ready, love?”  


_Possible heart arrhythmia in progress, but certainly ready_. “Yes, miss. Please!”  


Smiling, she spun around and straddled his chest, her back to his face. As soon as she began to squat, his cock surged, smacking his pelvis several times like an impatient Beater priming his bat for practice. Her furry little kitten closed in on him, blotting out the light in a total pussy eclipse. He kept his eyes wide open, spellbound. If he had to pick one vision to sustain him for the rest of his life, it might be that one. Or her tits. _Hmm, hard call._  


When she was in place, his nose slotted into her crack, and kissing heaven required nothing more than the puckering of his lips.  


“I cleaned my arse for you,” she purred. “I know how much you like sticking your tongue up there.”  


Smiling, Draco silently agreed—he _did_ like sticking his tongue up her arse. The naughtier the better. Taking a deep breath he inhaled her scent. She smelled of sex and swimming, the dark heat of her crevice holding just a hint of salty sweat. Delicious. How many nights had he driven himself spare dreaming of that mouthwatering aroma? And now here he was, pinned beneath the real thing, completely at its mercy. Was it possible to be forced into paradise?  


With a slow swipe of his tongue, he parted her labia and carved through the satin nectar lining her folds. _Oh gods!_ Sweet didn’t do that pussy justice. He couldn't get enough, slithering into every pocket, sucking up her essence.  


The cool tip of the riding crop teased his lower belly, encouraging his oral exploration with a swift flick, and his cock strained toward the stimulation, hungry for some attention. Any attention.  


Lifting his chin, Draco laved her firmly from clit to perineum, which evoked the most alluring sound of pleasure from his mistress. _Success!_ He did it again, burrowing into her fissure for more. The smell of her musky approval surrounded him like an olfactory cocoon, but since his breathing had been reduced to random gasps and sniffs, he could only catch her full flavor on the odd inhalation. He was being suffocated, and yet he had no desire for breathable air. Only one thing could slake his yearning. Reaching up, Draco caressed the sides of her calves and thighs, skimming his hands up and down her silken skin. He needed more, more contact, more Hermione. Leather was not sufficient.  


Hermione gently tapped his knob with the riding crop, bouncing it against his belly like a football. His cock began to drip again, and he wondered how long it would take before his navel overflowed with the runoff. 

“That’s it, love,” she moaned. “Get me nice and wet. You know what I like.”  


Mmmm, he did indeed. She liked to build the fire slowly, stoking the kindling until it roared—and when she was writhing with need, desperate to come, that was when he'd pour petrol all over the flames by sticking his tongue straight up her arse. He fucking loved that sound she made when his face was buried between her cheeks—but not as much as he loved the way she quivered when she was right on the edge, the muscles in her legs rigid as steel but the padding on her thighs and bum trembling so hard it blurred. Although he worshiped her body in all its perfection, part of him hoped she’d put on some weight so that shimmy would rattle his brain right out of his head.  


Hermione chose that precise moment to jerk her hips back and roll her sweet cunt into his mouth. Draco groaned as her juices coated his taste buds; he tried to drink her but couldn’t get deep enough. When her movements became measured and purposeful, indicating that she’d reached the proper temperature for climax, he dipped back and lapped her arsehole, swirling around the puckered star until she cried his name. _That’s it. Squirm for me, Nanny Granger._  


“Ah! Yes! Just like that. Now go back to my clit.”  


Said clit was swollen and thick; she’d be coming any second. Sucking steadily, he urged her toward release.  


“Good boy,” she panted. “Now stick your tongue inside me like it’s your cock. Fuck me with it the way you did the other night.”  


Draco plunged into her pussy, gathering as much of her honey as he could and gorging himself on her meaty interior. She carefully slapped his balls with the tip of her crop, and he whimpered as a frisson of electricity shot through his core. His erection, desperate for a jolt of its own, leapt toward the leather and demanded equal time. 

“Oh gods! Back to my clit.”  


Draco buried his nose in her opening and flattened his tongue against her sugared pearl. He didn’t know if Lucius and Severus noticed, but as her orgasm neared, her flavor shifted from musky to sweet. Sometimes when she came, it was like licking a honeycomb.  


“I'm getting close, Draco. Show Nanny Granger what a good pussy licker you are. Make me come all over your pretty mouth.”  


His pretty mouth? That was a new one. Did he have a pretty mouth?  


Draco grinned. Yes, he did.  


Granger tossed aside the riding crop and wove her fingers through his, holding his hands to her thighs, and the intimacy of the gesture turned his stomach to pure liquid. His heart went all fuzzy, as if the two of them were cuddled up on the couch with a basket of puppies, and yet his balls had gone soprano-tight, undaunted by the sentimental stirrings in his chest. Or perhaps spurred on by them. How did she do that to him every time?  


Draco pressed his tongue to her clit and gave her all he had. He was at the wrong angle to implement the upward drag she loved, but he could get her there with relentless rhythm. Opening his mouth wide, he tried to cover as much surface area as possible. There were so many places inside and out that could curl her toes. He’d try to hit them all. 

“Faster,” she hissed. “I’m so close.”  


Praying his tongue wouldn’t cramp, Draco put on another burst of speed.  


“Don’t stop!”  


_Never!_ But he _would_ moan to give her a boost of vibration.  


“Uuuuuunh!”  


Her body flexed, and a stream of crystalline desire trickled down his chin, but Draco stayed focused on her folds, licking her through the peak, spurring her even higher. Her entire body trembled above him, almost shaking him senseless. It was like hitting the top speed on his broom and then pushing it till it wobbled with effort. Such a rush.  


“Bloody hell,” she panted as she came down. “Keep going. Soft. You know what I need.”  


He did. And he gave it to her. His jaw was sore, but he’d be damned if he lost another drop of that champagne dripping from her chalice. She calmed as he worked, her body going slack as the last aftershocks faded into stillness.   


Releasing one of his hands, she leaned down to stroke his chest. “Mmmmmm, you are _such_ a good boy.”  


Glowing pride beamed in his belly, warming his face—or maybe that was just residual heat from her pussy.  


Hermione rose from her throne and looked down at him between her legs. “Are you ready for more?”  


His cock twitched affirmatively, but he answered out loud in case she didn’t speak Knobenese. “Yes, miss.”  


“Okay. I want you to go over to the bureau and pick one of the dicks I set out. Whichever one you select is going up your arse, so choose wisely.”  


Draco was off the floor and at the table before he knew how he got there. Hermione was right beside him, running her hands over his arse, probably admiring her spanking handiwork.  


The bureau looked like some kind of perverse jailhouse lineup at the Emasculation Station. She’d planned for every eventuality in terms of size. The choices went from slim and short to one that was so long and fat it made him wince just looking at it. It was even bigger than Snape. What anal champion could take a cock bigger than Snape’s?  


Some of her candidates were realistic looking, and some were bright and artificial. Draco didn’t have any preferences in that department. Having his girlfriend fuck him didn’t exactly scream reality, so choosing something believable seemed a bit pointless—he wouldn’t be able to see it in his arse anyway. This wasn't about realism; it was about her taking charge . . . and making every inch of his body hers.  


Malfoy studied the middle dildos closely, inspecting them to gauge girth and length. He hadn’t used anything sizable on himself in months, and now was not the time to test his limits. He was nervous enough without worrying about actual pain.  


Draco poked a pitch black phallus that he estimated to be about six inches in length. It wasn’t too thick, and the poke told him it was a softer material that hopefully wouldn’t feel like a lead pipe when it was rammed home.  


He could go smaller, but he didn’t want her to be fake-balls deep in his arse and discover that he could barely feel anything. Besides, it didn’t seem fair for him to wuss out after she’d taken on all three of them. He needed to man up.  


So to speak.  


“This one,” he said decisively.  


“Maybe we should get out some plugs to loosen you up first.”  


Draco looked away. “That won’t be necessary.”  


It took her a second, but then she started to giggle. “I thought you’d never been buggered before.”  


“Not by a person.”  


She must have found that even funnier, because she snorted loudly and then clamped her hand over her face. “Have you been practicing when I’m not around?”

“Love, I’ve been practicing since we were in school.”  


“Is that what the Slytherin boys do in their dorm rooms?” she teased. “Buggery practice after Quidditch practice?”  


“It was less practice by then and more play,” he said casually. “But somehow I always wound up on top.”  


Her eyes widened and flared with gold fire, her hand dropping away as the laughter died. “You’ve buggered other boys? Do I know them?”  


“Yes you do. And I don’t want to talk about it right now.”  


“I had no idea,” she said with a thoughtful smile. “Was it just when we were in school or more recently as well?”  


Bloody hell, she wasn’t going to let it go, was she? “Both.”  


Hermione suddenly made a face and stuck out her tongue. “Eww, it wasn’t Crabbe and Goyle, was it?” 

“Don’t be disgusting! I do have standards, you know!" 

“Thank Merlin. There aren’t enough bathtubs in this house to wash that image out of my head. What about Blaise? Is that what you do when you two go out?”  


Her delight was palpable, and Draco almost laughed at her gleeful expression. What a bloody perv. “Blaise is nothing compared to you, miss.”  


Hermione nodded, her smile growing. “It’s Blaise. That is _so_ hot. I can’t believe you never told me this before.”  


“There’s not much to tell. It was just a thing.”  


“A thing?”  


“Yeah, you know . . . something that happens. A shag. It’s not important.”  


“You don’t have to be embarrassed—you know how much I love some good Slytherin-on-Slytherin action.”  


“I’m not embarrassed. I just don’t want to talk about it because it didn’t mean anything. It was just a bit of fun.”  


Hermione reached out for him, and when he met her gaze, she placed her hand over his heart and stroked his chest. “I get it,” she said softly. “He helped you forget.”  


Draco relaxed a little, glad he didn’t have to explain. “Yes. I just needed to blow off some steam.”  


Hermione took the dildo from his hand then slipped her fingers between his and tugged him toward the bed. “But now things have changed, and you don’t like to remember how you used to feel.”  


Bloody hell, maybe she was a mind reader. “Yes.”  


Hermione patted the bed and motioned for him to climb up. “You haven’t gone out with Blaise in a long time. Are you avoiding him?”  


Draco crawled across the snow-white comforter and settled against the pillows while she gathered the harness from the nightstand. “Kind of. I don’t want to lose him as a friend, but I don’t really know what to say to him.”  


“Does he know about me?”  


He nodded. “The last time we went out for drinks, I told him I was seeing you.”  


“What’d he say?” She pushed the dildo through the hole in the front of the harness then studied the straps and started to adjust the fit.  


“He asked me if you still know entire textbooks by heart.”  


Hermione smirked. “Only select passages.”  


Draco rolled over and got the lube from the bedside table. “I think he already knew I had a thing for you. I must have mentioned you more than I realized.”  


Smiling, she stepped into the harness and pulled it up, fiddling with the sides to make it as snug as possible. “He probably misses you.”  


“I know, but . . . I don’t want to shag him anymore, and I don’t know how to tell him.”  


“Just be honest. If he’s really your friend, then I’m sure he just wants to spend time with you. He might be pissed off that you’ve been shutting him out though.” She stopped suddenly, hands on her hips, and looked down at the cock protruding from her pelvis. “Holy fuck, I have a dick.”  


Draco snorted but somehow managed to choke down the rest of his laughter. “No you don’t. You have a toy attached to some strappy knickers.”  


She touched it with one finger as if she’d never seen a dildo before. “This is so weird.”  


“Come up here where I can see.”  


Hermione climbed up on the bed and knelt in front of him, moving her hips awkwardly and staring at her new appendage. “I don’t know how you get around on a day-to-day basis. How is this not constantly getting in your way?”  


Chuckling at her bewildered expression, Draco reached out and wrapped his hand around the shaft. “I’m used to it. Besides, I don’t usually walk around with a hard-on. That’s just asking for trouble.”  


Slapping his hand away, she muttered, “You’ll wait until you're asked,” and then proceeded to stroke her fake length. “This isn’t at all like I imagined.”  


“Do you want to stop?” _Please don’t stop_.  


“Hell no! I just suddenly understand why guys want to stick their dicks into everything.”  


Draco burst into peals of laughter. “No we don’t.”  


“Yes, you do. Nature demands it.” She flopped down next to him, and wanked her new wand a few times. “Suck it. I want to see what it looks like.”  


Draco couldn’t stop laughing. “Yes, ma’am. Don’t come in my mouth.”  


“I actually do know a potion that can turn me into the male version of myself. Maybe I _will_ come in your mouth sometime.”  


Draco settled with his face at her hips. “I don’t want you to be male.”  


“You want Nanny Granger to bugger you till you’re a good boy again?” she asked with a suggestive purr.  


“Pretty much. Do you think that’s weird?”  


She shrugged. “No.”  


He had to hand it to her, she always took his predilections in stride. She hadn’t denied him a single suggestion yet—possibly because she was thinking even dirtier things. Or maybe she just understood his needs. She’d certainly hit the nail on the head with this one. Draco stuck out his tongue and licked the tip of her ebony cock, but he kept his eyes on her face to see her reaction.  


She appeared enraptured, and he couldn’t blame her. Head was a potent aphrodisiac. Licking his way up the entire length and swirling his tongue around the flared knob, Draco gave her good show. If she liked this game, she might want to bugger him on a regular basis.  


Hermione carded her fingers through his hair and gently urged him to take in even more. He smiled to himself and engulfed the majority of the shaft in one smooth slide. It hit the back of his throat, but he’d mastered his gag reflex ages ago.  


“Oh my God,” she muttered. “You look really good with a cock in your mouth.”  


Draco sputtered out a laugh, coughing as he pulled up and over the top. “Thanks,” he said as he wiped his chin. “I think.”  


“I want to fuck you. Are you ready?”  


“Bloody hell, love. Don’t be in such a hurry. You’re starting to scare me a little.”  


Growling playfully, she rolled over on top of him; the faux phallus had nowhere to go except the space between his thighs. She began to grind, and the shaft slid back and forth under his balls like a piston. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take such good care of you tonight. And you know I would never hurt you . . . unless you asked me to.”  


She kissed him then, gently, adoringly, and his anxiety floated away. Draco didn’t know he could go from panic to snogging-high in less than ten seconds. Nanny Granger certainly had a persuasive tongue. When she drew back, he nodded and handed her the lube. “I’m ready. Stretch me out with your fingers first.”  


Hermione kissed his cheek. “How do you want to do it?”  


“I want to be able to see you.”  


Leaning down, she brushed her nose over his. “Okay. Don’t come until I tell you to.”  


“Yes, miss.”  


“Good boy,” she whispered.  


Hermione knelt before him, the black harness and dildo breathtakingly stark against her skin, and when she wrapped one hand around the shaft and guided his knee to the side, Draco's heart began the race. He pulled his legs to his chest so she could see what she was doing, and she smiled as she greased her fingers in lubricant.  


Reaching down, she patted some lube over his arse, and Draco’s breathing became pinched and wheezy. This was it. It really happening. Someone was finally going to own his body inside and out. But it wasn't just someone—it was Hermione, the witch who already owned his heart . . . and quite possibly his soul as well. The room took on a surreal quality, and he could swear the furniture in his periphery vision became animated; but when he turned his head to check, nothing was amiss. _Just stress_ , he told himself. _Maybe everyone hallucinates their first time._  

Hermione ever so carefully inserted a finger and, curling up, found his prostate. Each little bump sent a zing of pleasure from his balls to his stomach. He was whimpering for more in record time.  


And Nanny Granger was certainly obliging.  


Two fingers were no problem. That was how many she usually used on him. When she slipped in a third, he clenched his teeth and hissed. It didn’t  hurt, and he’d been expecting the stretch; but his body went into some kind of pre-orgasmic panic mode, which must have shut down his brain, because he couldn’t think. At all. But his body was still on board, every muscle primed and ready to spring.  


“I’m going to put in the tip now,” she murmured. “But I won’t push in until you tell me you’re ready. Do you remember what you say if you get too uncomfortable?”  


He wracked his empty head but came up with nothing. That couldn’t be good. “No. What was it?”  


“Yellow. Or hold up two fingers,” she said, demonstrating with a peace sign. 

“Right. I’ve got it.” _I think._  


“Okay. Just relax.” She pumped her hand up and down the dildo, slicking it to a high shine. “I’ll go in as slowly as I can.”  


Draco nodded and kept his eyes on her face—she was rather cute when she was concentrating, her tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth. There was a dull pressure at his back door, and the very tip tip top of her dick dipped into his arse. Just for a second. She didn’t try to enter him; instead, she circled the border and teased him with her new knob.  


Groaning low in his throat, Draco pulled back his legs even further, silently begging her to go deeper. With an indulgent nod, she nudged her way past his sphincter, and his muscles immediately surrendered. The head slid in with almost no resistance.  


“Fuck!” he growled, closing his eyes when he saw stars.  


“Are you hurt?”  


“No! Just fuck me. I can take it,” he pleaded.  


“Noooooo,” she crooned with a breathy laugh. “I want to enjoy this. A girl likes to remember her first time with a dick. We’re going to ease in nice . . . and . . . slow.” She punctuated her words with a circle of her hips, the rounded glans sinking in a fraction further and then rubbing his rectum just the way her massaging fingers had earlier.  


Draco’s hand shot to his cock. He didn't know if he was trying to encourage its throbbing or stave off the approaching explosion. His tight grip offered a taste of both.  


“Remember what I said,” Hermione warned.  


“Yes, miss. I won’t come.”  


“You’d better not,” she replied, rocking an inch deeper to emphasize her control.  


He must have conquered the widest part of the dildo, because everything felt smooth and steady as she thrust in and out. Lifting his head, Draco peered down his body to see how much she had left to go. It looked like about half from his vantage point.  


“How’s that feel?”  


Draco nodded and swallowed. His throat was dry from breathing so hard. “It’s really good.”  

“No pain?” 

“No. I can take more.”  


Hermione hooked her hands behind his knees and, looking into his eyes, leaned her weight into him. Tipping his hips afforded her some much needed traction, and the angle of penetration shifted, allowing her to go deeper. So much deeper. Deeper than he ever imagined. His chest tightened—and it wasn’t because she was crushing his lungs.  


She looked angelic above him, her curly hair backlit by the sparkling chandelier, and her face was peaceful, as if she were reading rather than reaming his arse. How was she so calm?  


Her brown eyes met his, and glittery gold rippled through her irises like a dazzling sunset on the Thames. A wave swelled in his chest, battering him with unexpected emotion. The sudden tempest made his eyes bulge, and he was startled to feel the pressure of tears raging for release.  


“Are you all right, love?”  


He nodded. “Are you all the way in?”  


She looked down. “Mostly.”  


“I think I’m going to come.” _Or cry. Or both. What the fuck is happening to me?_  


“Then get your hand off your cock. We haven’t even started yet.”  


_Oh gods!_ Wait, did he just say that out loud? He wasn’t sure anymore what was going on in his head and what was real. His body felt flowing and loose, but at the same time, his muscles were contracting and gathering like a storm about to break. Or was that just tension from holding back the blustering typhoon in his heart. Why did it feel as if his chest was about to explode?  


Hermione spread his legs a little and rested her belly against his. She hovered above him for a moment, and then the heat of her breath was on his face and she was kissing his chin. Then his cheeks. Then his forehead.  


The pressure behind his eyes increased with every buss of her lips.  


Releasing his leg, she reached up and stroked his hair as she continued to bugger him with the finesse of a pro. She’d taken to pegging like a Grindylow to water. He didn’t know anything could make him love her more, but there was no denying how smitten he was by her cock-wielding prowess.  


Yet despite all the love and trust and closeness he felt, Draco was floundering, disoriented by how greatly her invasion was affecting him. He’d been expecting a downpour of uncontrollable pleasure; instead, he was being drowned in an undertow of emotion. The sweeter she made it, the more lost he felt.  


Hermione nuzzled his neck and bumped the warmth of her abdomen along his cock, probably bathing herself in the pool of his pre-cum. “You’re being awfully quiet,” she whispered in his ear.  


He couldn’t very well tell her he was scared he’d burst into tears if he spoke. That would require speaking. His throat was tight with restraint, and his nose was already clogged as if he’d been sobbing for hours. He was walking a razor’s edge.  


When he didn’t answer, she lifted her head and studied his face. She must have seen the truth, because her features knitted into a tangled knot of concern, and her hips stilled. “What is it, Draco? What’s wrong?”  


He didn’t know what was wrong, and that scared the shit out of him. He didn’t feel sad, but apparently his eyes had decided his humiliation wasn’t complete. Nothing said hot sex like a good cry in the middle of your first pegging.  


“Are you hurt?”  


He shook his head.  


“Is this upsetting you for psychological reasons?”  


Not as far as he could tell. He shook his head again.  


“Does it just feel really intense?”  


That was a bit closer, but not quite right. He shrugged.  


“Should we stop?”  


If she stopped, his world would end; and he had absolutely no idea where such a idea had come from. Draco bit his tongue to keep himself in check.  


“Do you just need to come?”  


He did, but that didn’t explain the tidal wave in his chest. “I don’t know,” he whispered through his teeth.  


Hermione reached up and caressed his cheek with such tenderness it felt as if his skin had grown a new layer just for her, producing nerve endings that only she could touch. And with that dermatological miracle, the overflow from his eyes broke through and spilled down his face.   


Her brow furrowed with worry, and she brushed away one wet track. “Draco?” Her eyes went shiny, and she blinked rapidly to dry them. “It’s okay.”  


Well this was bloody fabulous. Asking her to bugger him wasn’t embarrassing enough—now he was crying. For no sodding reason. His father was right—he was a baby, a child, a weak little wanker who wept at the drop of a hat.  


With a kiss to his temple, Hermione gently rolled her hips, reawakening the heat in his arse. “I know how you feel,” she murmured in his ear. “Like everything’s rushing around you and your heart’s going to explode.”  


He perked up. _Yes!_ She knew.  


“That’s what it’s like when you bugger me—like you’re penetrating my heart.”  


Another tear rolled down his cheek. “Why haven’t I ever felt like this before?”  


“I don’t know,” she whispered. “But it was the same for me. I got off on all the toys and fingers—it was exciting—but when you three took me . . . it was like you woke up something inside of me.”  


Draco sniffled. “But you only cried when Snape buggered you.”  


She was silent for a few seconds, the rustle of the bedding and his ragged breathing all that could be heard. Before answering, she pulled back to look in his eyes, and Draco was ashamed to have her see him in such a state. He felt too exposed.  


“When Lucius first entered me, it was like an avalanche of sensation. I was overwhelmed by the newness and intimacy of the whole experience. Then I came so hard I thought my body going to rip apart. But when you buggered me, it was totally different. I could feel your heartbeat against my back, and it was like you were breaking me open with joy. It wasn’t what I was expecting at all. I was too lost in your love to cry.”  


“You weren’t lost in love with Snape?” He didn’t understand. She said she loved all of them.  


“When Severus got inside, the stretching was intense, but that wasn’t what did me in. It was the realization of what I had with all three of you. There was a point where it felt like my mind was shattering, and when it came back together, everything was different. Better. Clearer. It was like a revelation forced on me through anal sex.”  


Draco just stared at her. His issues were sounding less bizarre by the second.  


“I felt so connected to all three of you in that moment, it was like we were one. I know how crazy that sounds, but I know I felt it. And then I fainted, and . . . when I woke up, I couldn’t tell what I’d been imagining and what had really happened.”  


“Me too. Except I can’t stop crying.” He was a bit worried about that.  


Hermione kissed his lips. “So? You’re allowed to cry.”  


“I feel like I’m losing it.”  


“You’re not,” she assured him. “And even if you do, I’ll still love you.”  


That did nothing to slow his tears; if anything her blessing made them fall faster. “Why the fuck am I always crying? I’m supposed to be a man for you.”  


“You are,” she insisted. “I don’t know who made up this rule about men not crying, but it’s absolutely ridiculous. Tears don’t make you weak. Caring is a strength, and it’s a virtue I value.”  


Draco wiped his face. “I think you’re in the minority on that opinion.”  


“Caring can feel like a burden sometimes. I know. But you are so fucking sweet, Draco. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”  


“Really?”  


“Really. I love the man you’ve become. When we were kids, I never imagined you’d grow up to be so thoughtful and sensitive.”  


“I was an arse.”  


Hermione smiled. “The past is past. It’s who you are now that I love.”  


“I love you too,” he said, and his face crumpled. A hairline fracture splintered his heart as the internal pressure finally cracked his aortal levees.  


“I love you, Draco,” she whispered in his ear. “Every second of every day. No matter what.”  


Hermione continued her soothing song, rocking into him as if rocking him to sleep, and the tears poured down his face like rain.   


“Come for me,” she whispered, and her hand, still damp with his tears, clasped his cock.  


That was all it took. As soon as she squeezed, he came, his dick pulsing and twitching so hard he was surprised it didn’t leap from her grip and go flying around the room. Warm seed shot from his depths with blinding strength, and she pressed her body to his, spreading his release over them both like butter.  


As the tension in his balls faded, the storm in his chest dissipated, and a cool stream of relief coursed through his core. The muscles around his eyes relaxed, and the lump in his throat melted away. He suddenly felt clean and weightless, high as a kite.  


“That’s my good boy,” she said, nuzzling his ear. “Just breathe.”  


Her hips slowed to a stop, and Draco hugged her tightly so she couldn’t pull out. “Love you.”  


“Love _you_. How do you feel now?”  


“Bloody amazing.”  


“Is your bum sore?”  


“I’m not sure yet.”  


“Still feel like crying?”  


“I feel kinda shaky . . . but relaxed.”  


“Veronique said orgasms are the best medicine.”  


Draco nodded. “Second best. She hasn’t seen what your love does to me.”  


Hermione lifted her head, her lips twitching. “See, I just can’t imagine Severus or Lucius saying something like that.” She gave him a loud kiss on the cheek. “I can only get that from you.”  


Draco’s responding smile was overtaken by a yawn. Fuck. That post-coital grogginess always caught him off guard.  


Hermione giggled and kissed him again, this time on the nose. “Are you sleepy, little boy?”  


“Yes, miss. Very.”  


“You wanna take a nap?”  


“I’ll stay awake if you want me to.”  


“Don’t be silly. You should rest. It’s been a long day. Do you want to sleep in here?”  


“No,” he said, yawning again. “I don’t want father to suspect what we’ve been up to. I’ll go to my room.”  


“Do you want me to tuck you in?”  


His heart pounded with excitement, and his cock attempted to resurrect itself. Draco preferred not to delve into the reasons why that phrase turned him on so much. “Yes, miss.”  


“Then I’d better get my messy boy cleaned up and under the covers. I need you rested for any future fuckings.”  


Draco closed his eyes, a sated smile lighting his face. “I can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teneramente—Musical direction meaning “tenderly.”
> 
> “Tonight You Belong to Me” sung by Patience and Prudence in 1956. Written by Billy Rose and David Lee in 1926. I usually stick with the original recording artist when crediting songs, but this time I decided to go a different route. This song has been covered by MANY people (Eddie Vedder being probably the most well-known/popular) but after listening to the various recordings, Patience and Prudence were the first to do the harmony and melody in the way we do it today. Plus they were the first people I ever heard sing this, so they get preferential treatment. <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=fOjVjc5vJ6I>
> 
> The movie Alien is owned by 20th Century Fox. Not by me. And I make no money from mentioning it.
> 
> The lines that go from a man’s hipbones to his junk will, henceforth, be known as Lay Lines (as decreed by me, Oracle Obscured on the fourteenth of December in the year two-thousand and seventeen). These sexy little indentations have no fucking name, and it’s ever so difficult to write about something that has no fucking name; so I have taken it upon myself to give them an official title.  
> *EDIT* A reader has informed me that these lines DO have a name: the Adonis belt. (Thank you Empress-of-Verace.) Yeeeeeees! I’m so glad I’m not the only one who felt the need to name these things, and that’s an excellent descriptor. Further searching has lead me to a whole host of names. Apollo’s Belt, Aphrodite's Saddle, Hercules' Girdles, athlete's girdle, and (most appropriately) iliac furrow (as the peaks of your hip bones form the iliac crest.) I’m rather fond of Aphrodite’s Saddle. That’s great. (But I’m going to have to stick with lay lines in my head because it makes me laugh.)
> 
> For those not familiar with the term, actual ley lines are “apparent alignments of land forms, places of ancient religious significance or culture, often including man-made structures. They are ancient, straight 'paths' or routes in the landscape which are believed to have spiritual significance.” (Source Wikipedia)


	48. Cambiare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize for the long wait, everybody. As you may have noticed, these two upcoming chapters took me way longer than originally predicted (waaaaaaaay longer). I thought they were pretty much good to go, but I wound up rewriting about 95% of both of them. (And then I rewrote them and cut them and rewrote them and cut them over and over until my eyeballs blurred.) I’m still not sure if I’m happy with them, but I think I’m to the point where I’m just driving myself nuts. I’m still working on chapter 49, but I REALLY want to put it up tomorrow, so I’m going to do everything I can to make that happen. (But it might have to wait till Tuesday. Maaaaaybe Wednesday.)  
> Also, please keep in mind what I said at the start of this story about not complaining about the heat in my kink kitchen. I know these two chapters won’t be to everyone’s liking, but they’re what I wanted to write and they’re integral to the story. (So suck it up and turn on the AC.)  
> Okay, back to where we left off. Not to confuse you, but no time has passed in the story since the last chapter. (And, heads up, the next chapter is a continuation of this one.)

48—Cambiare

“Hey, little girl, is your daddy home? Did he go and leave you all alone? I got a bad desire.”—Bruce Springsteen 

(Severus) 

Severus smiled to himself as a stark naked Hermione backed out of Draco’s room on her tiptoes and silently closed the door. 

Unaware of her audience, Hermione blithely spun around and, walking into a looming black shadow, jumped about three inches off the floor. Her hand clutched at her heart, and when she realized it was him, she burst into an adrenaline-spiked giggle.

“Shh,” she whispered, pressing a finger to her lips. “Draco’s sleeping.”

“I’ll bet he is,” Severus returned quietly. Offering her his arm, he gestured toward the playroom with a tilt of his head. “Are you free?”

“Hardly,” she retorted as she took his elbow, “but I’ll lower the price seeing as how you’re such a loyal customer.”

Smirking, he shook his head as he escorted her down the hall. “You’ve been spending too much time with Lucius, Princess Percentage Rate.”

“Naaah. I haven’t started creaming my knickers at the sight of a compounded interest table, so I don’t think he’s turned me yet.”

Snape swallowed a guffaw. Perhaps one day, when Lucius claimed to be balancing the books, Severus would send her to his office, and she'd find out for herself just how accurate that little joke had been. Severus might have to go with her, because walking in on Lucius wanking to a handful of financial porn was hilarious no matter how many times a person saw it.

They arrived at the playroom, and as he crossed the threshold, it was like stepping into a bakery oven, the aroma of hot, fresh fucking so all-consuming his knees almost buckled with hunger.

Alas, there were important matters to address before the banquet could begin.

Severus wrapped one arm around her waist and, in a physical display that would leave no doubt as to the tone of the evening, whipped her around and pinned her against the wall. Planting a thigh between her legs, he held her in place as he tipped the door closed with a flick of his fingers. Its muffled _snick_ severed their connection to the outside world and sealed them in a reality of their own creation.

A place where they could be be themselves.

Her gaze darted from the door to his face, and when their eyes met, he saw that her pupils had blown wide, and the remaining slivers of iris flickered with gilt fire. Unadulterated lust radiated off her like heat off the midday sun, and he was lost in the heady swirl of her sexual magnetism. 

Sensing her power, she grabbed the front of his black shirt and dragged him closer, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Professor Snape,” she said, her voice set to its sultriest register, “why have you brought me to this den of iniquity? Is it time for detention again already?”

 _What a_ _devious mind you have, my dear._ “I wanted to talk to you.”

Her eyebrows shot halfway up her forehead. “Talk? Mmmmmm!” she tittered. “I do love a good vocal warm-up.” Her index finger trailed down the front of his shirt before skipping over his belt to explore his distended zip. “Go right ahead. I’m all ears.”

“Very well then, I should start by telling you that I know what you just did with Draco.”

All traces of playfulness vanished in an instant.

Severus held up his hand to stave off the coming admonition. “What you do with Draco when you’re alone is none of my business; I’m merely curious how you convinced him to reveal such a closely guarded secret.”

“Were you listening at the door?” she demanded.

“Only long enough to decide if it was safe to knock.” The rest of the time he’d been using a charm to amplify their conversation. But she didn't need to know that. “I’m impressed Draco volunteered such sensitive information. I can’t imagine how the subject was broached. Was it your suggestion or his?”

She gave him a peculiar look, her eyes roving over the area surrounding his head. “I . . . asked him . . . and he told me.”

“As simple as that? You asked and he answered?”

“Well . . . not quite. I told him what I suspected and asked if I was correct.”

“Ah. So you averted the biggest hurdle by taking on all the liability. Clever. It was brave of him to own up to the truth, don’t you think?”

Hermione stared at him blankly for a few seconds, and then a little smile crept over her lips, as if she were pleased he’d say something so kind about Draco. “Yes, I thought so.”

“And are you equally brave?”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her over to the bear-flanked white dresser, “there’s one corner of this room you never go near . . . or even look at for that matter. You’ve never asked whose idea it was or questioned its purpose; and I suspect that’s because you already know. But if you don’t, it’s time you found out. Turn around.”

Hesitantly, Hermione faced him, but Severus was done with both her diffidence and his own; in a split second he’d grabbed her by the waist and set her on the dresser’s padded top. The sudden relocation loosed a squeak of surprise from her lips, but when she found herself simply sitting there, unmolested and free, she relaxed and looked to him for some kind of explanation.

Severus closed in on her, invading her personal space, but in a paradoxical gesture of reassurance, tucked a stray tendril behind her ear. “You’ve been slowly preparing Draco for what you did today. The power games. The punishments. The anal play. Do you think that helped him admit his secret?”

 “Yes,” she said cautiously, “I imagine it did.”

“Why do you think he finally came clean? Why now?”

“I don’t know. Because I asked?”

Severus shook his head. “I’ve caught you off guard; you’re not thinking clearly. Try again. Why did Draco admit what he wanted today?”

He waited patiently while she considered her answer, lightly brushing his thumb over her lower lip so she’d stop gnawing it to a pulp.

After a few seconds, she ventured another guess, “Because he trusted me?”

Pleased, Severus nodded. “I think it's most likely that, after declaring his love for you, he felt he could tell you anything.” Her eyes widened, and Snape couldn't help smirking at her exaggerated shock. “Yes, I know. Lucius, however, does not. He’ll be quite the jealous lover when he discovers Draco has bested him once again.”

A worried line knitted her brow, and she mashed her lips together as if the thought of Lucius’s plight made her physically ill. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmured, wiping away the tension with his fingertips. “I was only hoping to use your own powers of persuasion against you.” Severus smoothed his thumb along the arch of her brunette eyebrow and followed the curve of her face down to her cheek. She was so soft, so receptive. Was she prepared to receive everything he had to give? The part of him that still harbored a shred of hope prayed she was. “Perhaps if I gain your trust, you’d be willing to indulge in your more taboo fantasies with me.”

“I already trust you.”

His stomach leapt over his heart and tried to elbow its way past his trachea, leaving his middle far too light and flighty. Discreetly gulping his organs back into place, he bowed his head for a moment, hiding how unnerved he was by such a simple statement. “I . . . I’m glad to hear that.” _Don’t be a coward, Severus._ He forced himself to meet her eyes. “But openness breeds openness, and I want all of you; so, in the spirit of confession, I’m going to tell you something. Something personal.”

Hermione sat up straighter. “What is it, Severus? You can tell me anything.”

“You know how much I hate talking about myself, so I hope you appreciate this.”

“I always appreciate it when you’re honest with me.”

“I know you do. That’s why I chose this route.” Snape took a deep breath and, after mentally removing the final rivet from the armor that had protected him for the past forty-seven years of his life, did something he never thought he’d do. 

He told the truth—no occluding. “I trust you too. And . . .”

She nodded for him to go on.

Severus swallowed as quietly as possible, his throat bone dry. “I . . . care about you . . . more than I’ve cared about anything in a long time. And I want to . . . take care of you.”

“You do?” she whispered.

He nodded, hearing his stilted declaration echo in his head like an accusation. Why hadn’t he thought to rehearse beforehand? Maybe then he wouldn’t have used the word “care” a hundred times like a monosyllabic moron. 

Reaching up, Hermione caressed his cheek with a gentleness that bordered on ethereal. “That means a lot to me, Severus. And having someone take care of me sounds quite nice—a bit of a relief actually.”

Expelling all the air in his lungs, Snape sighed out about eight pounds of pent up anxiety, and without the added weight, his already thin frame threatened to float up to the ceiling like a feather on the wind. “Well . . . that was horrifying,” he muttered under his breath, garnering an appreciative laugh from the only woman in the world who understood his bleak sense of humor. Tracing the curve of her smile, he memorized her happiness for future lapses into nostalgia. “Now, would you like to be honest with me?”

Looping her arms about his waist, she rested her face against his chest. “I care about you too. Very, very, _very, very_ much.”

Severus smiled, reading between the lines and internally thanking her for not foisting the L-word on him before he was ready; but for the first time ever, he felt safe in returning her hug. And he did so. “While I like hearing that, I was thinking more along the lines of a sexual confession, one I know you’ve been thinking about for some time. I can give you what you need, little girl. I _want_ to give it to you. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Hermione shook her head no, her hair tickling his arms where his shirt sleeves were rolled up.

Apparently he was going to have to back her into a corner—just as she had cornered Draco. There would be no more hiding. For either of them. Swallowing hard, he said what they both needed to hear, “You can call me Daddy if you like. In fact, I insist on it.”

“What did you say?” she croaked, her body stiffening in his arms.

“You heard me. And you needn't act so scandalized. I know you’ve thought about saying it, and I want you to stop censoring yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that desire.”

Her arms locked around him, preventing any visual confrontation. “I can’t do it,” she whispered. “It’s too creepy.”

Severus worked a hand beneath her chin and gently urged her to look at him. “What’s creepy about it?”

“It’s so . . . incest-y.”

He rolled his eyes. “It is not. It’s just a word. A word to which you’ve attached an unfair amount of judgement. You don’t actually call your father Daddy, do you?”

“No.”

“What do you call him?”

“Dad.”

“And do you want to fuck him?”

“NO!”

“I didn’t think so. And since I assume I look nothing like the man, there’s absolutely nothing about this that is in any way ‘incest-y.’”

Her teeth sank into the side of her lower lip as she mulled over his argument. He could tell she wanted to believe him—she just needed a little nudge.

“This is about me taking care of you,” he said softly. “It’s an extension of what we’ve already been doing; we’re just intensifying things. I don’t need to explain this to you. I’ve seen the fantasies in your head; I know what you want. And I’m going to say this one more time—I _want_ to do it.”

Unable to maintain eye-contact, her gaze dropped to his shoulder. “You don’t think I’m sick?”

Wincing, Severus drew her in and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “No, I don’t. Not even a little. I think you need someone to take care of you the way only a daddy can . . . so you can let go. And I need to let go too. I get angry when my work in the lab doesn’t go well, and I need you to . . . be yourself—your sweet self who makes my failures fade into the background. You . . .” he trailed off, his heart hammering as his body revolted against the abrupt outpouring of his most private meditations.

Everything about this conversation set off warning bells in his head, but unfamiliarity wasn’t reason enough to stay silent. He was so close to getting what he wanted—what they both wanted. He couldn’t afford to hold back.

“You come home and step in the lab, and suddenly . . . the dungeon doesn’t seem so dark. You put your arms around me as if you’ve been dying to do it all day. I need that. I know I don’t constantly at paw you and demand your time the way Lucius and Draco do, but . . . that doesn't mean I don't want to. I want to have one good thing in my life. One thing I don’t destroy. Or fail. Or alienate. I can be what you need—I can keep you safe. I promise I’ll never push you away. Please. I need this, Hermione. I need _you_.”

Her body convulsed in his arms, and he realized she was sobbing into his shirt, her gasps choked to the point of soundlessness. Severus pulled her even closer, sheltering her in his embrace. He hadn’t meant to lay so much on her, but he had to make sure she understood that this was just as much his salvation as it was hers.

“It’s all right,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

Rubbing her naked back with a calmness that belied his own tumult, Severus eased her through whatever mental upheaval he’d unleashed. The burden he’d placed on her had many sharp edges, and it was difficult to say which one had cut her the deepest. Simply knowing he was privy to her most taboo fantasies would have been enough to send the average witch running from the room in hysterics; but to top off that humiliation with a heartfelt avowal—from the man least likely to show any emotion at all—that was probably sufficient to warrant a full nervous breakdown.

In which case, he was impressed she was taking it so well.

The crying jag eventually passed, and when she relaxed, he brushed his hand along her cheek and charmed away the excess mucus and tears so she could breathe. 

Sighing in relief, Hermione propped her forehead against his chest, still resolutely avoiding his eye. “Did you come up with all these bears and stuff?” she asked his left pectoral.

He smiled and stroked her hair. “Yes.”

“Was this whole room your idea?”

"Yes."

“Was this corner the real reason for the room?”

Severus bit his tongue to keep from laughing in delight. She _was_ a clever witch. “Yes. But don’t tell Lucius.”

"Do you really want to . . . be my . . . _you know_?”

“More than I can say.”

“All the time?”

“All the time.”

“So . . . when we’re around the house . . . you’ll treat me like your little girl?”

The longing evident in that one question tore at his heart like a rabid manticore. He hadn’t realized her need for escape had become so fierce. “Yes. We’ve already been doing that in many ways, but from now on I’ll do it every day. I’ll give you a bath unless you say otherwise. I’ll brush your hair whenever you like. I’ll hug you and kiss you in the morning without being asked. And if you want a spanking, for any reason, I’ll put you over my knee and make sure you get what you need. That goes for this sweet little pussy too. _Anything_ you need. I take care of my little girl in every way.”

“Will you read to me at night?”

“Of course,” he replied, his voice quavering with amusement. “Good little girls get all the bedtime stories they can handle.”

“Will you keep doing dirty things to me, or are you just going to be nice now?”

Severus sputtered out a surprised laugh. “I didn’t have a personality transplant; I just want to take care of you. But if you’re worried this isn’t going to meet your kink requirements, I think I should put your mind at ease.” Pushing aside an enormous beige bear, Snape opened the top drawer on the short end of the changing table. “If you’re going to be my little girl, I want to see you looking like it.”

She eyed the pastel purple tee shirt and white socks he laid out, her curiosity piqued. “I . . . I want to be pretty for you . . . Daddy.”

Severus’s cock lunged toward her, enraptured by the intimacy of that one word. “I know you do, baby.”

She looked up at him, her eyes glowing gold for several breathless seconds. If he’d known she was going to react so viscerally, he would’ve been spewing out “babies” left and right. While the endearment didn’t come to him naturally, there was no question what she wanted to hear; and ever since he’d seen the fantasy in her head that day at her flat, the urge to say it had been almost overwhelming. 

“Or would you prefer baby girl?” he asked with a devilish quirk of his brow.

“I like them both.”

 _I knew you would_. “All right then, baby girl, why don’t you put your arms up for me. I need to get you dressed.”

Hermione’s arms shot into the air, and as Severus shook out the shirt with a flourish, he flashed her a smirk of approval. She looked apprehensive, but her eyes kept shifting colors, pulsing with aureate excitement every few seconds. As if in sync with her inner beat, his cock thumped against his thigh like a drum major’s baton. Following its direction, Severus pulled the undersized shirt over her head, and as he wiggled it down, the colorful bears cavorting on the front stretched over her tits until they were distorted like a funhouse mirror.

Hermione glanced at her chest and blushed. “Where’d you get this?” she asked, running her hand over the bears with a small smile.

“Owl order. Now sit still while I fix your hair. I don’t want it getting in your face later.”

Severus carefully parted her curls with his fingertips then gathered one side and secured it with a hair tie. Bunches were the only appropriate style for such a special ensemble. 

When he was finished, two bright yellow plastic orbs adorned each pigtail, and he was staring into the eyes of his own real-life Lolita. “On your back,” he rasped. “I need to get your socks.”

Hermione’s smile wobbled higher, as if she thought he was being silly, but she rolled back and brought her knees to her chest with a giddy waggle of her toes.

Severus bunched up one little white sock and slipped it over her foot. Two pink fuzzy balls adorned the back of the anklet, and while he was attending to her other foot, she twisted her leg to inspect the decorative pompoms. When he released her, she tapped her feet together and pedaled them back and forth as if she’d suddenly become a sock model. Or maybe she was testing to see if they could withstand the rigors of a firm fucking. Whatever her intentions, all that dancing about opened the labial floodgates, and her slotted spillway lit up like a Parisian fountain in the glowing lamplight. 

For a solid minute he could see nothing else. 

Hypnotized by her shimmering sex, Severus reached between her legs and stroked her muff, tracing the satin shine. “Are you wet, baby girl? Should I check to see?”

Hermione nodded vigorously and, with absolutely no shame, fanned her legs into a wide vee—the quintessential good girl with a naughty streak a mile wide.

“What do we have here?” he purred, spreading her open with two fingers. “I think someone loves being Daddy’s little girl.”

Her panting became ragged, the bears on her chest pumping up and down as they rode her heaving breasts.

“What am I going to do with such a slippery little kitty? I can't let all this juice go to waste. Hold back your legs for me, love. I just need to get some things.”

She hooked her hands behind her knees and, with rapt attention, followed his journey to the dresser across the room. He never saw her blink once.

In the bureau, Severus retrieved a short, baby pink dildo and the black plug they often used. The lube was still sitting on the bed, and when he leaned over to grab it, he caught a whiff of Draco clinging to the sheets. He could swear that boy smelled different when he’d been under Nanny Granger’s care, like a sweet shop that specialized in candy cum and pheromone-laced chocolates. And Snape could smell Hermione layered over top, a meaty-sugary concoction that reminded him of honey glazed ham—heavy on the honey. Salivating and dizzy with arousal, it took him a few seconds to remember where he was and what he was supposed to be doing.

Oh gods, he’d left her waiting on the changing table! How long had he been standing there sniffing the sheets?

As soon as he turned to check on her, the scent of eager pussy slammed into him like a double-decker bus. Fucking hell! He’d always regarded his sense of smell as an asset, a potion-maker’s greatest resource, but now he wondered if it was really a one-way ticket to the Janus Thickey Ward. How was he supposed to maintain any semblance of sanity with that mouthwatering aroma constantly nipping at his willpower?

Severus somehow got back across the room without popping all the seams on his placket, which seemed a miracle in itself, and then carefully set everything on the dresser next to her, breathing through his mouth in an attempt to foil his duplicitous nose. Which didn’t work. At all. He just wound up huffing her into his lungs and giving himself a pussy high. Frustrated by his persistent disorientation, he grunted, and she looked up, her eyes limpid brown like pure chocolate syrup. While he’d grown fond of that hue and would gladly gaze upon it for all eternity, he longed for another reassuring glint of gold.

Snape patted her bum, making sure his fingertips “accidentally” got her pussy lips and joggled her clit. Her eyes flickered accordingly, and he was elated to see her desire for him reflected in those twin flames.

“Look what I found for you to play with,” he crooned, bringing the plug to her lips.

She stared at him in disbelief. 

“Open up, baby. I know how much you like to suck.”

Unsure and almost shy, her mouth parted, and Snape slid the tapered tip inside, supplying her with the perfect pacifier for a first-time little. Not to mention she looked absolutely adorable with her mouth stuffed full.

Maybe later he’d pacify her with his cock.

Severus picked up the powder pink dildo and touched it to the gleaming knot of her clitoris, gently running the head up and down her silken folds until it was coated in her lust. “Does this sweet little pussy need to be filled?”

Her nod bordered on delirious.

Dipping into her vaginal opening, he teased her with the very tip, not quite pushing in, just whetting her appetite.

Taking his time, Severus worked the phallus inside, stirring it around, stimulating her cervix until her pussy wept for mercy. When her body began to flex with warning spasms, he pushed the dildo in as deep as it would go and gave the base a final firm pat. Hermione’s eyes rolled back so far all he could see was white fluttering beneath her lids.

Snape held up the lube where she could see it—assuming she could focus—and greased his fingers in clear gel. Reaching down with his other hand, he spread her cheeks and then painted her rosebud in glossy shine. She was so keyed up edging her was effortless. A few leisurely circles had her bucking and babbling as if she’d lost her mind.

“Okay, baby, let me have the plug.”

Her jaw dropped, and he pulled the toy from her mouth, leaving a crystalline thread of saliva trailing across her lower lip.

Resting the plug’s pointed tip at the rim of her anus, he gave her an encouraging nod. “Bear down for me.”

As soon as she did, the plug slid in halfway. Severus drew it back out and started again. He could have forged ahead—she was ready— but now was not the time to rush. Her raging arousal needed to be put on display; she needed to know that _he_ knew just how wet this new game gotten her.

“Relax for me, baby. Let Daddy get you ready to play.” 

Her body opened to him, inviting him in with splayed thighs and a stream of ambrosia so strong it trickled from her pussy and ran down her crevice. 

Spreading her wide with one hand, he watched as her arousal forked around the dam in her arse and then joined forces with the lube. When he met her eye, she blushed and laughed her I’m-embarrassed-but-don’t-you-dare-stop laugh. He had no intention of stopping. A river that majestic deserved some serious sight-seeing.

But he could give her a glimpse of the glory before him. Dropping his chin, Severus blew a cool breeze across her clit.

“Daaa-addy!” she groaned, giving him a desperate pout that would have melted a softer man.

Severus was too warped for melting, but he took pity on her and allowed the plug to find its home. Her tiny tushy snapped tight around the narrow indentation, and with a contented sigh, she smiled up at him.  

Pressing his palm between her legs, he jiggled both protruding bases, giving her a double helping of toy time. “How’s that feel? Nice and full?”

In the midst of her demented moaning, she bobbed her head in a resolute yes.

The pad of his thumb grazed the pink bulb of her clitoris, and he lightly fingered her trigger. “You’re so wet, baby. Do you know what wet little girls need?”

He wasn’t sure if she could hear him over her spirited vocalizations, but he continued as if she had. Opening the drawer again, he pulled out the _coupe_ _de grace_ and waited for her to realize what was about to happen.

When she saw the nappy, she froze, and the keening died on her lips, plunging the room into a tense silence.

“I can’t wear that,” she whispered.

“Yes you can. I made sure it was your size.”

“No,” she said, pausing to sink her teeth into her lip and then scrape it raw. “I mean, I don’t _want_ to wear that.”

Snape arched an eyebrow and set the nappy on the table. Grabbing her ankles in one hand, he pushed her legs toward her face and, with no warning, smacked her arse hard and fast. 

She shouted in surprise, her hips wildly shimmying back and forth as she struggled to avoid the blows, but ever the rule-lover, she dutifully refrained from blocking him with her hands.

After half a minute of bum-blistering swats, Severus stopped just as suddenly as he’d started and shifted her legs to the side, making sure she was looking him in the eye before he scolded her. “Liars get a spanking. You know better than that.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m just scared.” 

“I know you are, baby; that’s understandable. But I’m right here to take care of you, so if you get scared again, just tell me.”

Mashing her lips together, she nodded contritely.

“Good girl. Now keep those legs up so I can get this on.”

There was no resistance that time. Although she was clearly apprehensive, she pulled back her legs and gave him a look of pure surrender.

And his heart spontaneously combusted.

Or at least that’s what he thought had happened, but then he noticed he was still breathing. And vertical. 

Well, wasn’t that an interesting reaction. Apparently he could now be felled by nothing more than a look.

What a frightening prospect.

Yet he’d give anything to be struck down by her faith once more.

And he knew exactly how to lure that look back out into the open. Snape unfolded the nappy and, after flattening it out, eased the back under her reddened bum. “All right, put down your feet.”

She did as he asked, but she squeezed her eyes shut as if she could hide from what was happening. Severus let her suspend reality for the moment. She always dealt with each new layer of submission in her own time—and he'd given her a lot to process.

With great care, he pulled the padded crotch up between her legs and smoothed the center panel over her pelvis. Peeling back the sticky tape on one side, he stuck it in place with a firm swipe of his fingers and then gave the front a slight tug to make sure it was secure. That seemed to be too much for her, because she slapped her hand over her face and whimpered low in her throat. He waited to see if she would say her safe word, but when she gave no indication he should stop, he pulled the other side snug and fastened it as well—before she she could change her mind.

“There you go, baby girl. You’re all ready to play,” he said, patting her pussy through the crinkly plastic. 

Hermione bridged up off the table and made a strangled noise behind her sealed lips—the pained inner scream of one who’d been perched on the razor’s edge of climax for too long. He'd never seen her so lost in the moment. It was breathtaking.

“Come on, love,” he crooned as he took her by the hand and helped her up. “Tell me how you feel.”

The rustling of the nappy caused her face to turn a new shade of crimson, but her mortification was soon forgotten in light of the shifting toy situation. “I . . . I’m nervous . . . and wet.”

“The nervousness is to be expected; you’re nervous every time we try something new. But you always get through it, don’t you? As for your wetness, I’m well aware. That's why you’re wearing the nappy.”

“It feels weird.”

“I’m sure it does. But since I don’t hear you saying your safe word, I think you might enjoy that feeling—just a little. And Daddy loves seeing you like this. You look very sweet.”

“My heart is beating too hard.”

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. This wasn’t supposed to be traumatic—just intense. The more extreme the submission, the greater the psychological and physical release. That was part of the scenario’s appeal, even if she didn’t realize it yet. “It’s okay. Here, put your arms around my neck so I can pick you up.”

She did, and when Severus lifted her from the table, her legs automatically locked around his waist, effectively sealing her body to his with the strength of a sticking charm. Rubbing her back with one hand, he took care of her the way a daddy should, just the way he'd done in his head a million times. His hands didn’t waver or hesitate. It felt natural. He was relieved his urges weren’t just the delusional daydreams of a lonely man yearning for something beyond his capabilities. Apparently he had some dormant nurturing genes after all.

“That’s it, love. Put your head on my shoulder and try to relax. I don’t want you to be scared when we do this. I want you to feel safe. Just slow your breathing, and when you feel better, tell me.”

“I think you’re eventually going to get tired of carrying me around, Daddy.”

Severus smiled. She was doing all the lifting, clinging to him like a frightened monkey. “No, baby, I think I’ll be fine. If I get tired, I can always sit down.”

“Daddy?”

“Mmm?”

“Have you ever done this with anyone else before?”

“No.”

“You’re really good at it.”

 “You make it easy,” he insisted, kissing her temple. “You’re an awfully good little girl.”

“What else do you have in the dresser?”

“Hmm . . . that’s for Daddy know and you to find out.”

“Are you going to call me baby girl all the time now?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes. Do you think Lucius and Draco will be freaked out?”

“I seriously doubt it. Draco will probably be turned on by it. Or possibly jealous. Lucius just wants you to be happy. And although it might not be his particular cup of tea, he knows on some level that you need this. He doesn’t just call you princess because he worships you—he wants you to feel cared for too.”

“He wants to be my prince instead of my daddy.”

Severus nodded at her assessment. “You like having him be your prince, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good, because I don’t know how to be anybody’s prince. I leave the charm to Lucius.”

“I like you the way you are, Daddy.” 

Severus squeezed her tighter. Bloody fucking hell, he needed this even more than he'd imagined. “Thank you, love. Are you feeling better now?”

“I think so. Will you kiss me to make sure?”

“Of course I will.”

She lifted her head and met his eyes, her face so close he could feel the heat from her flushed skin. Severus nuzzled her cheek with his nose, making her giggle, and then pressed his mouth to hers—slow and easy, savoring the flavor of her trust.

It didn’t take her long to get over the initial anxiety. In less than a minute, she was giving his lower lip little kitten kisses that had his dick straining against his zip.

“Are you ready for a game now?” he asked between pecks. “Your poor little pussy must be getting restless.”

She nodded. “It aches, Daddy. Can you make it better?”

“I can. But your heart might start beating hard again. Are you ready for that?”

Her eyes flared. "I think so.”

Severus carried her over to the white, lacquered sawhorse and drummed his fingers against the thick leather top in a galloping _clop_ _-clop-clop_. A two-dimensional wooden horse head sprang forth with a sparkly burst of magic and emitted a lifelike whinny. “One rocking horse for my favorite little girl.”

He carefully set her astride the center beam and watched her face. Her feet couldn’t touch the floor, so the pressure on her pussy would be immense. With the added internal stimulation of the dildo and plug, this game might get overwhelming extremely fast. 

But with the state she was in, they shouldn’t be there long.

She wiggled around, searching for a comfortable position, but her dance only shifted the discomfort from one area to the next. “I don’t think it rocks, Daddy. The feet are flat. And this saddle isn’t at all comfortable.”

“Put your hands on the mane and lean forward,” he said, stroking her head. “You’ll have to do the rocking yourself.”

Slowly, she did as suggested, and her jaw clenched as the crossbeam smothered her clit.

“That’s it, baby.” He swatted her bum. “Go for a ride.”

She heaved out a shuddery breath and, with all the speed of a tranquilized tortoise, began to sway back and forth. “It kind of hurts.”

“I know. But if you stay on that little clit, it’ll start to feel very nice.”

Tipping forward, she grimaced, hissing through her teeth. “Oh God!”

Her hips rolled with almost imperceptible movement, and Severus smiled to himself as her eyelids drooped to half-mast. She was almost there.

"Mmmmm!" Scrabbling for a handhold, her fingers clawed at the carved mane.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “Come for Daddy.”

“Uh!” Her eyes popped open, and he knew by her startled expression that she’d found the sweet spot.

As the climax crested, her quiet whimperings of alarm grew to a ribald groan of completion. Arching her spine, her head pitched back so she was staring at the ceiling, and her eyes glazed over, blinded by pleasure.

“Aaaaaaaaahhhh!” It was a possession of pure beauty, her limbs twitching and jerking as if in the grips of an orgasmic grand mal seizure.

No matter how many times he saw her climax, it never ceased to captivate him. Each orgasm was an unspoken conversation, one that was felt instead of heard. It said things no words could convey, and he came away from each encounter feeling more connected to her than ever before.

That could be somewhat disconcerting, but he longed for the next high with the fervor of an addict. 

The spasms gradually diminished, but Severus was waiting for the last of the tics to fade; he could always tell when she was still riding the lingering high by the animation of her toes.

When she leaned back to get off her clit, Severus came to the rescue. “Okay, baby. Let’s get you off there.”

He picked her up, but this time slid one arm behind her knees. The thump of her heart could be felt throughout her entire body, and her shirt was starting to stick to her in sweaty patches. She looked like a sleepy little cherub, her cheeks rosy with satisfaction.

Sitting down in the rocking chair, Severus held her close, keeping her curled in his lap. He needed to rearrange his cock, but he didn’t want to lose the cozy magic of the moment. Hermione snuggled into him and, with a deep sigh, pressed her face to the crook of his neck.

“How was that?” he murmured. “Did you enjoy your horsey ride?”

“Yes, Daddy. But now my pussy’s all slippery and sore.”

Severus laughed under his breath and kissed the top of her head so her frizzy curls tickled his face. “The sore will go away in a minute. Your sticky pussy, however, will get a nice bath later. And that’s another reason baby girls need a nappy—they like to make a mess.”

“Hey! You make a mess too.”

“No, I deposit my seed neatly inside you unless you request otherwise. I’m quite tidy.”

Hermione snickered into his skin and traced his clavicle with the tip of one finger. “I was thinking . . . maybe you could come all over my pussy and then put on my nappy so I could keep it there for a while.”

“That . . . sounds lovely.” _You devious little nymph._ ”Later perhaps. There’re some other things I have in store for you tonight.”

“I don’t know if my pussy can take any more pony rides.”

Snorting softly, he shook his head. “No more pony rides. _I_ was thinking, we should clean out this little bottom and see how much my baby girl likes a good buggering.”

She looked up, and her eyes flickered with twenty-four karat heat. “She likes it a lot. Can we do it now, Daddy?”

“Are you going to be a good girl while I give you the enema?”

Her lips brushed his ear, sending a shivery ripple of energy down his spine. “I’ll always be your good girl.”

Severus smiled, confident she meant that on every level imaginable. “Then I'd better go find the equipment and get you all cleaned up for my cock.”

She growled in agreement.

And he could swear, in some alternate universe, where the overgrown jungle of his sexual mindscape had populated the wild with his animal lust, his cock growled back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cambiare—Musical instruction indicating change; i.e., any change, such as a new instrument.
> 
> “I’m On Fire” by Bruce Springsteen. Written by Bruce Springsteen and released in 1985 on the album Born in the U.S.A.  
> It was the fourth of a record-tying seven Top 10 hit singles to be released from Born in the U.S.A. (And if you’re like me and are wondering what other albums had seven Top 10 hit singles, the answer is Michael Jackson’s Thriller and Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation 1814.)  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=xzQvGz6_fvA>
> 
> Although the term Lolita is commonly used nowadays, I like to pay tribute to the original mastermind. Lolita was written by Vladimir Nabokov in 1955. (And I make no money by mentioning it in my story.)


	49. Lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I really want to thank everyone who took the time to show their support for the last chapter (whether it was your thing or not). I didn’t realize how hard it would be to post something so divisive. And personal. While I’m not into the whole ABDL scene in real life, it is something I’ve thought about, and as someone who is fond of the DD/lg dynamic, it appeals to my need for a caring dom. If you’ve never written about your own sexual quirks, I can’t really describe the vulnerability involved in inserting them into a story and then plastering that story all over the internet. The anxiety is two-fold, because I’m not only laying out my private life for all to see, I’m hinging an important plot point on it. So any rejection is doubly painful. But that risk is a part of this journey. I needed something that would push my readers and my characters (and apparently me) into uncharted territory. Because that’s where the change happens. That’s where characters grow and discover things about themselves and the world around them. And that insight is a large part of what’s going on here.  
> So, if you’ve stuck with me up until now, I thank you. If you’ve left me your thoughts as you’ve read, I thank you more.  
> The next release will be six chapters long. But don’t let that scare you. They’re shorter in length, and I’m guessing, all together, they’re about as long as these two chapters combined. I hope it doesn’t take me another month to get them done (but I don’t make any promises). I think my neurotic revision of these two was due to the subject matter more than the word count; I just wanted everything to be presented in the best light.  
> I hope you all enjoy.

49—Lullaby

“Who’s your daddy?”—The Zombies

(Hermione) 

Snape traced the rim of her arsehole with one finger, following the perimeter of the nozzle so slowly she swore she could feel the grooves of his fingerprints.

“Are you ready, baby?”

Hermione buried her face in the teddy bear he’d given her for emotional support. As far as comfort value, the bear couldn’t hold a candle to Draco, but his fuzzy body _was_ soothing, and she needed all the help she could get in her current predicament; it wasn’t every day she found herself kneeling on the furniture with her arse waggling about in the air.

Well . . . okay, maybe it was becoming her default position when Snape was in charge, but doing it on a changing table was an entirely different experience, and having her bowels filled with water was in no way a common occurrence.

“I said, are you ready, baby? You’re still with me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she answered, but her voice wobbled as if she were part turkey. Clearing her throat, she tried again, “I’m ready.”

“Have you got Mr. Bear?”

"That’s not his name,” she muttered, hiding her face in the bear’s plush belly.

“No? What is it?”

"Colonel Brandon.”

He was silent for several seconds then his low, rolling laugh filled the room. “Have you been reading Jane Austen again, love?”

“Yes, Daddy. Will you read it to me tonight?”

“Of course; anything you like. All right then, have you got Colonel Brandon? Is he keeping you calm?”

“Um . . . mostly.”

“Well,” he tittered, obviously amused by her reservation, “I’ll be right here if he isn’t enough.” His hands caressed her rump in a reassuring manner, patting down her anxiety with his palms. “I’m going to turn on the water now, so try to relax, okay, baby?”

“Okay.”

Relax? He knew very well that after everything he’d put her through, relaxation would be impossible. While she’d admittedly recovered from her  “equestrian adventure” with surprising alacrity, the seemingly simple process of nappy removal turned out to be a Snape Special. His version included a _lot_ of crinkly crotch rubbing, which he claimed would soak up all the cummies she’d made for him. Of course that had only made her wetter, and if his grin was any indication, he knew exactly _how much_ wetter.

When it came time to take out the plug and dildo, she got what could only be called a “reverse fucking,” where instead of being precipitously filled with each thrust, her pussy lost its deposit. Her muscles had put up a good fight, struggling to keep the toy internal, but everything was so damn slippery. She couldn’t keep hold. 

After that cruel exodus, he proceeded to “kiss her all better,” which translated to him pushing back her legs and tonguing her to the brink of tears.

Just as the rush of orgasm approached, he rudely cut off all contact, leaving her bereft and vibrating with need, her body straining toward release.

Precisely where he wanted her.

 _Click_. The snap of the flow regulator sent a shiver of adrenaline through her bloodstream, somehow freezing her with gooseflesh while simultaneously scalding her with a fever. Warm water trickled into her rectum, and in response, Muffy released what felt like an ocean of enthusiasm. While Hermione appreciated a spontaneous lubing as much as the next witch, the humiliation currently fricasseeing her face made it difficult to embrace such a profusion of arousal.

“Did you just come?” Severus asked, his tone gleeful rather than accusatory.

“No, Daddy. It’s just . . . wet.”

“I see.” And he did indeed, easing aside one slick labium for a visual inspection. “Well, well,” he said, trying to sound serious but apparently unable to stop laughing. “Didn’t I just lick this pussy clean a few minutes ago?”

“Mm-hm. Will you lick me clean again, Daddy?” She arched her back to lure him in.

“No-o-o,” he chuckled. “No more cummies until I’m deep inside this sweet little bottom hole.”

He kissed the base of her bum, right next to her pussy, and Hermione’s vision went dark, the majority of her blood stampeding from her head to her pelvis. “Uuuunnh!”

“Shhhhhh. You're getting too tense, baby. Take a deep breath for me.”

She did, her lungs stretching to full capacity, the extra oxygen smothering some of her urgency.

“Now let it out—slow as you can. That’s it. I want you to focus on keeping your breathing light and easy. Try closing your eyes and picturing yourself in a place you find relaxing.”

Behind her eyelids, Hermione immediately saw herself sleeping in the big bed with all three of them.

“Good girl. You’re already unclenching. Now just rest there, and I’ll tell you when the bag is empty.”

“‘Kay.”

She heard him moving around, possibly studying her from different angles, but she refused to check. At least with her eyes shut, she didn’t have to see that huge bulge in his trousers slithering down his leg like an anaconda.

No doubt he’d had to open his flies to give that thing some air. And he was probably stroking himself while he watched her, his hand loose, his thick knob gleaming with pre-ejaculate.

 _Bah! Stop torturing yourself, Hermione! Go back to the bed in your head. It’s night time and everyone’s asleep around you. It’s quiet. And warm. Draco’s breathing on your neck, and Lucius_ _is holding your hand._ _Snape’s dick is flaccid,_ _and he isn’t right behind you waiting to scramble your brains with his gargantuan stirring rod._

_Don’t start that!_

_Okay, okay. Severus is breathing_ _deeply_ _through his nose and puffing the air out through his mouth every few minutes. His heart is beating against your cheek._

She grinned broadly. Snape’s heart. 

That enigma might not be as elusive as she’d once thought. Hermione had always assumed it would take ages to penetrate his tough outer shell, but he’d gone and hacked away a thick layer of his own flakey crust without her help, exposing a side of himself she hadn’t been expecting.

That whole “I want to take care of you” speech had sucker punched her right in the feelings, but when he’d said he’d keep her safe and never push her away, she’d experienced the oddest sensation—as if her awareness had doubled and she were processing their conversation on multiple levels. With that split-screen perspective, she could see that, in his own way, he was telling her he loved her; but at the same time, she knew, with absolute clarity, he was also telling her what _he_ needed most.

It was Severus who wanted to feel safe. It was Severus who feared abandonment. And it was Severus who, after a lifetime of denial, needed to care about someone with utter impunity.

How that must have terrified him—the man known for his callousness and cunning, who’d become a loner for the sake of survival. He’d been wandering the earth in a self-imposed prison for almost fifty years, his only relief coming in small spurts of interaction—a little Lily here, a little Lucius there—but never anything that offered him real respite from life’s harsher aspects.

It struck her then how self-aware and honest he’d been from the start. Veiled in a bundle of flowers, he’d sent a coded message from behind the reinforced walls of his mental-bunker. That sprig of Queen Anne’s lace stood out in her mind, its unassuming simplicity hidden amidst a cluster of colorful competition. While the other blossoms screamed of beauty and pleasure, the quiet Queen Anne’s lace, much like Severus, silently made its plea for sanctuary with little fanfare or ornamentation. 

Sanctuary.

She hadn’t grasped the full meaning of that word when she’d first heard it, but now that she’d gotten a glimpse of the emotional refugee he’d been harboring within, she understood. Severus needed someone to be his protection from the world, his haven of acceptance. His retreat. And he thought no one would ever want the job.

Just as Hermione had thought no one would ever understand her convoluted and contradictory sexual appetites. But look how wrong she’d been. And Severus had been wrong too, because being his sanctuary wasn’t a burden—it was a privilege.

“You’re being a very quiet,” Snape commented, his hand on her back. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“You’ve taken about half the bag. Are you getting too full?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“That’s my brave girl. Just a little bit longer.”

His fingers wandered up and down her spine, petting her into a groggy stupor. Hermione’s eyes drifted closed, and she, once again, took Lucius’s hand and settled herself between Draco and Severus in her head-bed.

 _Mmmm_ _, Draco and Severus_. The corners of her mouth curled with delight. She still hadn’t figured out what was going on between those two, but now that she’d been introduced to Snape’s alter ego, her Snaco fantasies would shift accordingly. Draco _definitely_ needed more “Daddy” in his life—and Severus appeared ready to take on the role. 

Although Draco responded to sexual domination in much the same way she did, Hermione sensed his motives varied greatly from hers. As far as she could tell, he wasn't looking to lose himself in the passion; it was more like he wanted to lose himself in love. Hermione wasn’t sure how his submissive tendencies fit into that, but maybe she didn’t have to have all the answers this time; maybe Snape could help her give Draco what he needed. And Draco could help her give Severus what _he_ needed. It would be beneficial for everyone involved. Severus would get a double-decker sundae of acceptance and love, Hermione’s inner child would get the Daddy Dom it craved, and Draco would get a fucked up father figure who wanted to shag him as much as hug him.

Christ, they were probably some psychoanalyst’s wet dream.

But what about Lucius? He didn’t seem to require this new side of Severus. But she was positive he would be sympathetic to Snape’s desires, as Lucius had some very similar needs. Caring and providing were two sides of the same coin, and even though he never said it, Hermione could tell Lucius loved having them all under his roof, his own little makeshift family to feed and shelter.

So then what did Severus and Lucius get from each other? How did they fit together? It was obvious there was a lot of unspoken love there . . . but it wasn’t the kind of sweet and romantic love she was used to. 

It was something more. 

Something uniquely them.

They were kind of like brothers—brothers who chose their roles. Or like soldiers who had spent a war together, living through the same battles, sharing the same pain. They were simpatico. There didn’t seem to be any competition between them, which was unusual for two men who both liked to be on top. Perhaps they were too tired and battle-scarred for pointless rivalries. Maybe they just wanted some peace after a lifetime of drama.

But clearly their feelings for one another were more than fraternal; they were lovers in the truest sense of the word. Their connection was so deep she could _feel_ the energy passing between them. Which was beautiful in ways no words could describe. 

In fact, everything about those two defied description. Whatever it was they got from each other did wonders for the both of them. She felt lucky to be a witness to such a strangely beautiful duet.

The only tension in the house was between Draco and Lucius, who, on good days, were civil to one another, but on bad days, butted heads like billy goats. Despite their mulishness, it gave her hope to see how much longer the harmony was lasting. She knew their love was strong, but until they stopped hating the parts of themselves they saw reflected in the other, they would keep picking at each other's heart until one of them bled to death.

Hermione refused to let that happen. She’d known the darkness of a time without family, and she didn’t wish that kind of loneliness on anyone, especially not two men she loved so dearly. Her parents weren’t as much a part of her life anymore, but their memories had been restored, and they’d forgiven the extreme measures she’d taken to protect them, insisting they understood her fears. She visited them twice a year in Australia, where they’d stayed on to continue with their thriving dental practice.

Hermione had decided from the start not to involve them in her contentious love life, and although she’d mentioned Draco in her letters, she hadn’t yet written to say she’d moved in with him . . . and his father . . . and her ex-professor. Her parents already thought her life was beyond bizarre, and she didn’t know how to explain the addition of three live-in boyfriends. Or the new aura vision she’d acquired. Or how she’d acquired it. Some things were better left unsaid.

“You took it all, baby.” Snape’s voice floated through her consciousness. “The bag’s empty. I’m going to take out the nozzle now.”

What no one had told her about enemas was that the nozzle coming out would turn her on just as much as the nozzle going in. The tip slipped free, and a few drops of water dribbled down to her pussy. She knew it was just the last dregs draining from the end, but paranoid about leaking, she clenched her cheeks to make sure that's all it was.

“There,” he said, his touch ghosting over her labia. “In ten minutes you’ll be squeaky clean. You want me to put your nappy back on, don’t you?”

Her face almost set Colonel Brandon on fire. “You’re not gonna stuff me full of toys again, are you?”

“No, baby, you’re full enough. Just the nappy.”

Wait, wait, wait! She didn’t say NO toys. “You’re not going to use the sparkly plug?” 

“Not this time. I want you to show me how tight you can keep this sweet little bottom hole. And if you can’t keep it all in. . . well, that’s what nappies are for.”

Hermione’s eyes popped open. Was he serious! While she might enjoy the mild shame involved in this game, she didn't actually want to make a mess. She did have limits.

“Why don’t you turn over for me,” he said coaxingly. “Be careful. Take your time.”

Lowering herself to the tabletop, Hermione rested on her hip and started to roll over. Oh gods! Lucius had been right—gravity was _not_ her friend. Choking her bear in a death grip, she eased onto her back and stared down at her rounded abdomen in horrified amazement.

“That’s it,” he said, guiding her thighs open with his fingertips. “Keep hugging Colonel Brandon while I get you changed.”

Hermione tried to focus on her furry sidekick, but when that proved ineffectual, she turned her attention to Snape. His aura, which was brighter than she’d ever seen before, danced with several vibrant new colors, and like a child with a kaleidoscope, she was enamored by the dazzling display. Around his head and face were bright blues and purples, suggesting his confession had not only set him free but had profoundly integrated his heart and mind. She could only assume that meant something about being her daddy filled an intrinsic need in his soul. Was it his need to love and nurture? That glittery green patch centered over his chest seemed to indicate it was. His heart had opened before her eyes, his willingness to feel and share coloring his aura with a compassionate glow. Reaching out, she touched the emerald swatch and smiled when it pulsed beneath her fingers.

Severus paused in his ministrations to give her a searching smirk, probably wondering what the hell she was doing. When Hermione smiled back, he chuckled under his breath and went about his business.

Taking care not to jostle her too much, Snape slid the nappy under her bum and then checked to make sure she was okay. Her heavy panting must have conveyed excitement rather than panic, because he cupped her pussy in one huge hand and slipped his middle finger between her lips, tracing the engorged tissue of her opening. When she whimpered, the corner of his mouth lifted in a sly grin, but he provided no further vaginal assistance.

Hermione wasn't too proud to beg. “Please will you finger my pussy, Daddy?”

"This little pussy?” he asked, lightly tickling her folds. “This little pussy that’s soaking my hand . . . and your nappy . . . and the table?”

“Yes, Daddy. Don’t you like it when I’m wet?”

“Daddy loves it when you’re wet. Good little girls are always _juicy_.”

She burst out laughing. “Then I must be the best little girl in the world. And don’t good girls get fingers in their pussies?”

Smiling, he pulled up the cotton crotch between her legs, tugging it rhythmically so it rode against her clit. “They get whatever Daddy thinks they need. And I don’t think my finger is what you really need right now.”

“Oh yes it is,” she assured him.

“No. It _isn’t_ ,” he countered. “Daddy knows what’s best for you, and I can tell by how fussy you’re getting that it’s time for your feeding.”

 _My feeding_ _?_ _Mm_ _!_ Daddy was all kinds of dirty, wasn’t he? “I could go for a snack. Is it candy?”

He snickered as he held the crinkly plastic to her distended belly, preparing to seal her up. “It’s more salty than sweet—but you can suck on it like a lollipop.”

 _Gee, I wonder what it could be._ “Can I have it right now?”

“Juuuuust a second,” he said, pressing the adhesive tape into place over her hipbones. “Let’s make sure you’re all set here.”

Resting his hand on her mound, he rubbed her through the padding, forcing her to acknowledge what she was wearing—and her lubricious reaction to it. Her clit flared to life, and Hermione’s breathy giggling stuttered to gasp.

“Looks like you’re ready,” he said teasingly. “Let me help you down from there, love. I don’t want you to fall and pop yourself like a water balloon.”

She knew he was joking, but the possibility felt all too real. Hermione took his hand and, clenching her teeth _and_ her sphincter, levered herself up and perched on the edge of the table, her buttocks so tight she sat at least an inch taller. Picking her up under the arms, Snape lowered her to the floor, and Hermione grabbed hold of her gut as a tidal wave crashed through her colon.

“I’m so full, Daddy. I need to go.”

“No, baby,” he said softly and then stroked her face so she looked up at him. “Ten minutes. By then the powder will have vanished anything in your bowels and you can breathe easy. If you let it out now, it’ll be very messy, and we’ll have to do it again to get you clean. I know you’re uncomfortable, but I want you to show me you can keep that bottom tight for me.”

She cradled her belly with one arm and put Colonel Brandon in a sleeper hold with the other. “Yes, Daddy.”

Bending down, Severus pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “That’s my girl. Now, are you sure you’re ready for Daddy’s lolly? I can wait if you need a break.”

Hermione glanced at his trousers. Gods, she wanted that cock! And it might help keep her mind off the interminable countdown. “I want it.” She looked him in the eye. “I always want it.”

Snape’s sneaky smile returned, and his hand wandered down to his zip. “Can you get on your knees, or do I need to help you?”

“I can do it by myself.” _I think_. “Will you hold Colonel Brandon for me?”

“I’d rather not.” He eyed the bear with a wary arch of one black brow.

His expression was priceless, and she almost lost it, choking on her guffaw. Who could have guessed stuffed animals would be Snape’s kryptonite? “Please, Daddy. Just while I get in place.”

“Very well.” He pinched the bear’s paw between his thumb and forefinger as if he didn’t trust its squishy handshake.

What a strange man. He had no inhibitions when it came to turning her into his little girl, but throw some fur-covered cotton batting at him, and he didn’t know what to do. As Hermione sank to the floor in slow motion, it dawned on her that Colonel Brandon might be his first foray into cuddlies, and then she wondered what he’d toted around for comfort as a child. Books?

Or was that just her?

When she was safely on her knees—nappy still dry—Hermione sighed in relief and held out a hand. “Okay. I’ll take him back.”

He passed the bear down to her, and she propped Colonel Brandon in the space between Snape’s feet. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, but she could see he was struggling not to laugh.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked wearily.

“I work better with an audience.”

Chuffing out an reluctant half-snort, Snape conceded with a nod. “All right . . . go ahead.”

Hermione winked at Colonel Brandon. The stitched smile remained steady, but she could tell he was impressed by not only her ability to curry favor with the stolid Potions master but also her audacious enthusiasm for his legendary leviathan. _Fear not, my brave bear, for this_ _beast and I are old friends. Watch how quickly he succumbs to my womanly wiles._

Hermione reached into Snape's open flies and tucked her fingertips over the waistband of his boxers. A tremor of exhilaration bubbled through her body, leaving a heady impetuosity in its wake. She knew the encroaching intoxication of subspace when she felt it, but she’d never gotten there without a spanking before; and instead of feeling sleepy-stoned like she usually did, she felt dizzily impish. Free. It was fun. _Are you ready to play, Daddy?_

Yanking hard, she pulled down his trousers with enough force to make his cock spring back up like a perky gymnast. She enjoyed the show, but all that jumping about made it difficult to assess the moisture levels. Was he really as salty as advertised, or had his underwear stolen the cream of the crop?  She left his trousers wreathed around his hips and went in search of libations.

 _Oo_ _!_ A sparkle of pre-seminal promise clung to his tip, calling to her, begging for a lick, but she preferred to save the best for last. _I’ll come back for you later._ _Don’t go anywhere._

Pushing his shirt out of the way, Hermione bowed her head to calm his cock with a kiss. He was twitching so hard all she had to do was get close, and it rose to meet her in a series of gravity defying pecks. When her taste buds touched his shaft, she almost convulsed in a flavor-gasm. Sweet Merlin! He tasted amazing—like want and lust tied together with an enormous bow of bollocks.

His hard-on jolted against her lips, ascending skyward as if beckoning her toward his most aromatic areas. Hermione took its suggestion and ducked down to seal her mouth to the top of his sac. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, filling her senses with his scent as she tongued the loose skin surrounding his scrotum. He must have liked that, because his erection sideswiped her cheek and banged into her temple like a staggering drunk.

She’d never been beaten about the head with such a delicious truncheon before. She kind of wanted him to do it again—but on purpose. Occasionally, he’d give her lips a tap when feeding her his cock, but he’d never slapped her with the whole salami. 

How did one request that kind of treatment? _Oh, no, I’m resisting arrest, Officer_ _Willyclub_ _. Subdue me!_ But wait, what if slapping wasn’t _quite_ what she wanted? Was there was some kind of rolling pin maneuver he could employ? She just wanted him all over her face, the smell of him impossible to escape.

Hermione rubbed her nose into his groin, humming merrily as his stiff rod buffeted her cheek. She lapped at his sac with everything she had, and when he grunted and cupped the back of her head, encouraging her adoration, she slid her hand between his thighs to explore the bollock backcourt. 

Obviously in favor of her plan and wanting to give her more room, Snape shifted his legs back and forth, shucking his layers like a reptile shedding its skin. His clothes dropped to the floor, which toppled Colonel Brandon and, were he not made of stuffing, would have resulted in a serious head injury. 

With a cry of playful disbelief, Hermione rescued her comrade and pretended to check for injuries while Severus kicked off his trousers. Unfettered, his dick swung low and smacked his thigh. Her eyes stayed with its heavy sway, unable—or unwilling—to lose sight of it for even an instant.

 _’Cock_ _G_ _lorious_ _Cock_ _!’_

_Shut it, Muffy! This is not the appropriate time for that song._

_‘Oh yes it is, dearie. All rise for the_ _Cockpopolis_ _National Anthem.’_

_I don’t think I can._

_‘I wasn’t talking to you, was I? Just put your hand over your heart and sing.’_

Hermione dutifully placed Colonel Brandon’s paw over his heart. Muffy’s anthem was rather short, which, given the time constraints, was for the best; but Hermione wasn’t sure if “hot custard-filled bollocks” really rhymed with “thrusting twixt my buttocks.” Still, she applauded the sentiment.

Once Snape was naked from the waist down, Hermione assured Colonel Brandon that no further harm could befall him and stationed him back at his post. _Lie low, Colonel. We’ll rendezvous at oh-seven-hundred. Good luck and Godspeed._

Severus used one hand to draw her in while the other started on his shirt buttons, and Hermione reapplied herself to the search for any missing cream by methodically covering him in long licks, not wanting to miss any possible hiding spots.

“That’s it,” he muttered approvingly. “Get Daddy as hard as you can.”

Hermione wrapped her hand around him, and his cock hummed like an engine in her grip, pulsating and hot. Lifting his length, she brazenly sniffed him from root to tip. Daddy smelled like fucking. And he tasted even better. Mouthing him like an ear of corn, she slurped the sex-salt from his skin. “Mmmmmmmm.”

“Good girl,” he purred, tossing aside his shirt. “Keep playing with my balls while you suck my cock.”

She moved in for the kill, but just as her lips were about to make contact, Hermione stopped and looked up, her expression demure, but her intentions devious—Daddy needed a little teasing to enhance the experience.

He looked frightfully tall from crotch-level, and his hair hung around his face in a way that hid half his features in murky shadows; but the visible side sported a sexy snarl that had Muffy erupting in an aqueous squee.

Hermione bit her lip and did her best to carry on with her mission of enticement. “You taste _so_ good, Daddy.”

“I’m going to taste even better once I’ve been in your arse.”

Damn. Daddy wasn’t as far gone as she’d hoped if he was lucid enough to say something like that. And to add injury to insult, the mere mention of her arse renewed the ache in her bowels with a vengeance. “How much more time till I can go to the potty?” 

He grinned. “Five more minutes.”

 _Fuck_. "I _really_ need to go."

“Five more minutes,” he repeated firmly.

Hermione sighed and made sure he felt it. “Yes, Daddy.”

She told her sphincter to cease its screaming, but it continued to wail a high-pitched alarm. _Okay, brain. It’s up to you. Do you think you can block out that caterwauling and complete the task at hand?_

There was no answer, and Hermione knew why. _STOP FANTASIZING ABOUT THE LOO_ _!_

Her body responded, but whether that was due to brain activity or simple muscle memory, she couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was, her hand rose, bringing his cock to her mouth. But instead of sucking him clean, as requested, she took the road less traveled. Touching his simmering glans to her bottom lip, she drew it side to side and glossed herself in a shimmery topcoat of Crystal Clear Cum. 

 _I feel_ _pretty,_ _oh so_ _pretty_ _!_  

When she glanced up from beneath her lashes, he was staring at her so intently her heart forgot how to beat; she almost fainted when it restarted at a sprinter’s _Ba-Boom_ _Ba-Boom_ _Ba-Boom_ _!_  

Grabbing hold of his hip to keep from keeling over, she poked out her tongue and then, millimeter by millimeter, swiped right, scooping up her prize. He made a growly noise of encouragement and rocked forward, but Hermione flinched, and his cock missed its target, grazing her cheek. _De-_ _nied_ _!_ With a dramatic flair Lucius would have been proud of, Hermione made a show of swallowing and then displaying her empty mouth, curling her tongue in a cheeky “try again.”

Her dare was met posthaste. He didn’t even wait for her to dock him properly; he just thrust again, skimming her cheek once more. Hermione turned her head, and as he drew back for another try, she parted her lips so her mouth dragged along his length.

When his heated knob reached her tongue, she laved its scalding expanse in wide strokes. He grunted and went for a third try—but Hermione threw up a hand to still his hips. _Not yet, love._ _Watch this._ Wiggling her tongue over his slitted opening, she licked away his lust as it sprang from the source, and when his breathing stuttered, she gently nudged the tip of her tongue into the hole and fucked it with tiny pulses of pressure.

Snape made a noise she’d never heard before—possibly a growl that crossed into tones inaudible to the human ear. Her pussy, however, heard it loud and clear, like a Rottweiler responding to a dog whistle. Perhaps that’s how he’d summon her from then on. Her eardrums would pick up a mild rumble on the wind, but her clit would drop whatever it was doing and go chasing after the call.

“You love that cum, don’t you?” he ground out. “Go on, little girl. Put it in your mouth. Let me feel those lips.”

Hermione slid her tongue under his head, making him think his wishes were about to come true, but once she had his frenulum on call, she proceeded to tap out a message in Morse code. _SOS. Monster cock spotted off the starboard bow. Hull has been breached and is full of water. Send help. And toilets._

His next growl sounded like a warning, so she abruptly cut off communications. But that didn’t mean she was abandoning _O_ _peration_ _:_ _Drive Daddy Mad with Desire._

Obediently closing her mouth around his head, Hermione enveloped him in warmth, her tongue nothing more than a wisping caress. Lips loose, she leaned back. No suction. Just slack softness.

He went hard as mahogany.

She did it again, this time turning her face side to side and making sure he felt the silky inner rim of her lips on the curve of his corona. She could swear he was whining like a puppy in between groans—but maybe she was hearing things.

“While I am enjoying this exquisite torture, Daddy needs some thrusting. You want to make Daddy happy, don’t you, baby girl?”

Hermione nodded, not bothering to release him before doing so.

Inhaling sharply though his nose, he stared her down. “Suck me deep, love. Show Colonel Brandon how much of my cock you can take.”

Hermione almost sputtered around him in uproarious laughter.  Not only was he trying to psychologically manipulate her by preying on her need to prove herself, but he’d commandeered _her_ bear for his nefarious plot. How very Slytherin of him.

That underhanded trickery, combined with the tension in his posture, could only mean one thing: he was onto her game and didn’t want her to know how close she was to breaking him.

Which meant she’d already won.

 _Mwhahahahaha_ _!_

Rejoicing in her conquest, Hermione took him in her mouth and circled his damp glans in a sloppy victory lap. She wouldn’t mention his defeat until later; no sense risking retaliation when there was so much he could still deny her.

With a huge smile—which was hard to do with one’s mouth stretched wide—she bobbed up and down his cock and made up for all the waiting she’d put him through.

“That’s right,” he murmured, sounding both relieved and on edge. “Just a few more minutes and then you can let out some of that water.”

As soon as he said the word “water,” the urgency wracking her colon increased a thousand fold. 

“Deeper, baby girl. I know you can take it.”

Hermione moaned, squirming in crampy discomfort. _Just a little longer_ _. You can do it. Focus on his cock_ _. Your bum is not about to self-destruct_ _. Don’t think about it_. Consciously releasing the muscles in her neck, she concentrated on getting him into her throat.

“Yessss,” he hissed. “Such a good little girl. Don’t hurt yourself.”

Although she felt a rush of triumph when she surpassed her usual limits, it wasn’t long before the need for air overrode her need to please, and Hermione had to pull away to catch her breath. A huge glob of her spit stayed behind, frothing his head in a white cap, and a line of saliva connected the two of them like a sparkly rope bridge. She went to wipe it away, but he caught her wrist in midair.

“No, baby. That’s your spit-string of success. Leave it right where it is.”

Hermione nodded, trying to keep a straight face. What a perv. Since when was he into slobber?

 _‘I think the more appropriate question,’_ Muffy interjected, ‘ _is since when are YOU i_ _nto slobber? Don’t pretend you_ _didn’t just get a little wetter.’_

 _It’s not the slobber!_

_‘What is it then?’_

_It’s . . . it’s just so shiny. Doesn’t his dick look pretty?_

_‘It’s_ _beautiful_ _, but you know perfectly well that wasn't what creamed your biscuit.’_

_You honestly think that was because of the drool?_

_‘No, it was his reaction to the drool. You really are a sucker for praise, aren’t you?’_

_I am not!_

Severus tickled her cheek. “You’re not giving up, are you? Colonel Brandon and I were just marveling at what a gifted little cock sucker you are. T’would be a shame to waste such outstanding talent.”

 _Okay, so I am a sucker for praise. What’s it to you?_ Diving back in, she took as much of him as she could, gently prodding her own soft palate until her larynx let him pass. Her throat clutched at his monumental girth, but she managed to not gag.

At first.

His breathy grunts became more amorous as he slid down her gullet, and Hermione succumbed to the uncontrollable salivation, allowing the overflow to leak from the corners of her mouth as he went even deeper. _Look at me, Daddy! See how far I can go?_

Suddenly, she needed to swallow, but her body’s involuntary gulp was arrested by his erection, choking her from the inside out. Ripping herself off him with a wet cough, the buildup of drool burst from her lips in a torrential spitsplosion.

“Oh-h-h, baby,” he chuckled, wiping the spray from his pelvis with the edge of his palm. “That’s all right. You’re just a messy little girl, aren’t you?”

Hermione sat there. Petrified. She didn’t give a fairy’s fuck about the spit; what had transpired in her nappy mid-cough was of far greater concern. She stared at his feet, panting in horror. Bum leakage was NOT sexy.

“I didn’t know you’d look so cute all covered in drool.” His warm fingers wiped at her chin. “Let me see your mouth. You’ve got it everywhere.”

Hermione turned her face to his but couldn’t bring herself to meet his eye.

“What is it, love? I can see I’m going to have to get you a bib, but that’s no reason to look so worried.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, her heart racing. She couldn’t tell him what had happened. Those words would not cross her lips.

Severus crouched down. “Baby, what’s the matter? Was that too much? We don’t have to do it again if it upsets you.”

Hermione shook her head. Dick sucking wasn’t scary; it was fun. She loved making him mental. But now their fun was ruined. She’d let him down. It was like failing a test, except a trillion times more humiliating.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

Hermione opened her eyes, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears.

His brow contracted with apprehension. “Why are you crying, love? Are you injured?”

She shook her head again.

Snape studied her for a moment then delicately entered her mind, holding her so she couldn’t look away. Hermione didn’t want him to see what she’d done, but he was going to find out sooner or later; and she definitely didn’t want to be the one to tell him.

Severus’s frown lightened when he realized the cause of her distress. “Did some of the water come out?”

She looked away.

"That's all right. Sometimes little girls have accidents. I told you I wanted to take care of you. You didn’t think I’d be upset, did you?”

“You told me to hold it,” she whispered. “I couldn’t do it, and now . . .” Now her bum was wet, and she felt like an incontinent toddler.

“Don’t worry, you made it the ten minutes. It’s just water. All you’ve got is a wet nappy. Now come on, let Daddy take care of you. I’ll make it all better.”

He kissed her cheek, and some of her anxiety faded. She felt ridiculous. And mortified. But also a little hopeful. He really didn’t seem bothered. He was handling the situation with aplomb. Daddy Dom aplomb.

Hermione sniffled, and he handed her the bear. Giving him a watery smile, she hugged Colonel Brandon to her chest, curling into his gooshy body.

Severus offered her his hand, and when she was standing, he took her over to the changing table. “I’ve got to pick you up. Are you ready?”

She nodded and braced herself. The trip was a short one, and he was extra-gentle, but her muscles were straining to keep her bum sealed, and being in a seated position wasn’t helping.

“Okay, baby. Lie down.”

Hermione tipped onto her back and closed her eyes, exhaling a jagged stitch of tension from her chest.

“Why don’t you lift up your shirt for me. Let Daddy see those pretty pink nipples.”

His cajoling tone quieted her inner turmoil, and she obligingly rolled her shirt above her tits.

Severus took her stuffed bear and, pinching one arm between his fingers, waggled it up and down so it looked as if Colonel Brandon was waving at her.

When she giggled, Severus brushed the bear’s plush paw over her breast. She couldn’t help arching into his furry caress, her senses yearning to be soothed.

"Colonel Brandon loves your nipples too,” he quipped. “I want you to keep him right here while I take off your nappy, all right?”

Hermione nodded and did as he said, trying to concentrate on the comforting feel of fur rather than the rattled nervousness of nappy time.

Severus kept one eye on her as he pulled the adhesive tabs open and peeled down the front. “See?” His inflection suggested there was nothing to fear. “Just water. It’s barely anything. In fact,” he said, stretching to the side and opening one of the hidden drawers, “I don't think this nappy is nearly wet enough. Let's see if any more comes out with a little extra . . . incentive.”

Hermione lifted her head, an anxious grimace contorting her face, but he just smirked and kicked the pile of bears out of his way so he could stand at the short end of the table near her feet. Grabbing her by the hips, Snape dragged her to him. The backs of her ball socks hit his shoulders, and he held on to her calves so she’d leave them there. When she relaxed, he turned his head and placed a kiss to the arch of her foot. “That’s it. Nice and calm. Just give me a second to get ready.”

He twisted open a little jar and slathered his cock in some kind of oil. Spellbound, Hermione watched as his erection gleamed in the lamplight. Was he going to . . . ?

Severus lubed his fingers and spread her arse. Two digits eased inside, and Hermione almost shot off the table. Sweet Circe! Some of the water leaked out, and she sucked in a silent whimper, panic seizing her throat.

"Good girl," he murmured. "Get Daddy's fingers all wet. You like the way that feels, don’t you?”

It was certainly keeping her attention.

Nudging his length between her cheeks, Severus tapped at her back door. “I’ll help you hold in what’s left. Ready, baby?”

Was he seriously going to bugger her with all the water still inside? Where would he find the room? Muffy demanded answers. And demonstrations. “I . . . I think so.”

His eyes locked on hers, and her stomach did an impromptu breakdance on her pancreas. That thrill of penetration-anticipation washed over her just as it always did, but this time something was different. Drastically different. There was no shield between her gaze and his. No wall. No buffer. He was _right_ there— _with_ her. Not studying her, or peering at her in that calculating way he did. Nor was he leering. Or mesmerized.

The intimacy flowing between them seemed like something that should have been joyous and carefree, and it might have been, except, for the first time ever, she was looking into the eyes of the _real_ Severus Snape. A wizard she’d never met. A veritable stranger.

Yet she felt as if she’d known him all her life. 

The man before her didn’t need sneers or glares to keep the world at a distance. He was whole in himself, secure, exactly as he was meant to be. 

This was the Severus he could have been had life seen fit to deal him a kinder hand.

That’s when it hit her. She suddenly understood what those new colors in his aura _really_ meant.

This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t sex. This was atonement.

And she was his path to transcendence.

While that revelation could have frightened her, in that moment Hermione felt only gratitude. It was a blessing to see an innocent man finally set free. And he _was_ innocent. Past deeds aside, the lonely boy who had disappeared into himself all those years ago had committed no crime.

And that was what she saw now: a man with a child’s eyes, hope burning in his black gaze, cautiously curious after so many years locked away. But there was a playfulness there too, an excitement for life she’d never seen from him before.

That he would trust her with such a fragile piece of his soul . . . The responsibility was staggering. 

But the honor, that was wondrous. 

Something like pride—but infinitely greater—suffused her heart. It lifted her high, above her worries, above her embarrassment. The word _trust_ took on new meaning, blending so seamlessly with _love_ she didn’t know where one stopped and the other began. Her chest constricted, and a bolt of effervescence shot to her head, leaving her dizzy with elation.

Her mind began to float away; she could almost picture it fading into the distance.

 _This_ was what he could give her that no one else could.

Severus shifted forward, his hand braced on her left buttock, pulling it to the side as he slowly sank into her. Totally in control. The full enormity of his manhood broke her apart, not with pain, but with knowledge, a knowing so absolute it resonated in every cell of her body.

This was his gift.

As he sluiced through the reservoir pooled in her rectum, her world compressed and shrank, smaller and smaller, until nothing existed except her body wrapped around his. 

And the peace.

The inner chatter died. She had no brain. Only the exquisite rapture of fulfillment. The muscle and sinew that had held her together for so many years dissolved; her body was no longer composed of blood and bone. 

She was time. 

Each second was an eternity that passed into another eternity, falling away to make room for something even more perfect, something that could only exist in that instant and might disappear forever if she didn’t watch it evolve.

But there was no chance she’d miss a second of that bliss, because he had the one thing big enough to obliterate her compulsive monkey mind. His cock had the distinct ability to keep her centered in the present.

It always had.

“That doesn’t hurt does it, baby? You have to tell me if it’s too much.”

Hermione blinked, caught off guard by the ecstasy of his voice amidst such euphoria. Grasping at his hand, she anchored herself to him, but once she was sure of the connection, of his power, she let go. It was time for him to guide her home. “I like it, Daddy. But I don’t know if I have any more room inside.” 

He loosened her with a roll of his hips. “You’re going to be extremely full, but I think you’ll adjust. And don’t worry if anything comes out. The nappy’s still right underneath you, and I can clean up anything that misses it.”

He found a spot in her arse that made her see stars, and Hermione floated into orbit.

"Did Lucius fuck this little bottom yesterday? Is he keeping you stretched for Daddy?”

Hermione nodded, too dazed to reply.

“I know,” he said with a smirk. “I saw. You were begging him to get deeper, to fuck you faster. That look on your face when you’re penetrated is absolutely divine. I’ve never seen such cock-loving little girl.”

Her eyes rolled back as he worked in the last few inches. “Daddy!”

“There’s my sweet girl. Did you like that? Do you want it deeper? Tell me how you want me to fuck you.” 

“Like this”, she rasped, her head whirling. “Deep and slow. Oh gods! You’re so big, Daddy. Don’t hurt me.”

“Never,” he whispered. “Daddies don’t hurt their little girls . . . unless that little girl pulls down her panties and begs for it. Spankings are for hurting, fuckings are for making sure baby is happy.” There was pause, and he almost stopped moving. “ _Are_ you happy?”

The vulnerability in his expression stole her breath; she could see the longing in his eyes, the need to be her everything. And in that moment, he was. “You always make me happy, Daddy.”

The corner of his mouth rose in relief, but it morphed to a wince as she spasmed around him. “Take it easy, love.”

“I can’t help it; the water is sloshing around.”

He held her by the ankles and looked to where they were joined. At first she thought he was just enjoying the view, but then he pulled out, not roughly, but abruptly enough to leave her gaping. Water surged from her depths, and Hermione sputtered in shock.

Smiling, Severus slid right back in. “That was lovely. You’re just a wet little girl all around, aren’t you?” He curled his hand between her legs and tickled her clit. “Wet little pussy. Wet little bottom. Wet little dick drooler.”

“Please fuck me faster, Daddy!”

He bumped her cheeks with his pelvis, revving his rutting into second gear. “Are you ready to come for me, little girl?”

“Yes, Daddy!” Merciful Merlin! Her bum was about to burst!

“Hold on.” He pulled out, and her bowels expelled another jet of water, probably saturating the nappy like a tissue in a tsunami. 

“Doesn’t that feel better?” he asked as he glided back inside.

“Yes!” His finger returned to her clit and touched her in a way that had her questioning the reality of the universe. How could a finger feel so sublime? “I’m gonna come!”

“Okay, baby. Get Daddy’s cock as wet as you can.”

Hermione’s toes curled, her approaching orgasm announcing its arrival feet first. Oh gods! She didn’t have much time; and he hadn’t said her favorite phrase yet. “Am I your good girl, Daddy?”

His face softened. “Yes, love. You’re always my good girl. Daddy’s good little girl.” Her muscles clamped around him, and he grunted appreciatively. “That’s it. Come for me, baby. Come for me . . . right . . . now.”

Hermione’s back spasmed into a hard arch, and she locked Colonel Brandon to her side as the pulsating release pounded through her veins. She was flying, launched into an orgasm that bordered on blackout. Snape’s cock thumped inside her, tethering her to her body and whipping the climax to a frenzied dance. She couldn’t see straight. The driving bass line of his thrusts vibrated through her core with such strength the room rattled.

Severus followed soon after, shooting his seed deep into her tract, an animal growl escaping his grimace. His brow stayed furrowed throughout. He always looked so serious when he came. It was hot as hell, but she longed to kiss away his tension.

When his balls were empty, he planted his hands next to her hips and slumped down with a knackered sigh.

Hermione rested one hand atop his.

Smiling, he flipped up his palm and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “You all right?”

Hermione nodded. “I like the way you fuck my arse, Daddy.”

He breathed out a sleepy chuckle of agreement. “And I like the way you come, baby girl. How’s your poor little bottom holding up? If you’re ready, we can go to the loo, and you can let out that enema.”

“Yes, Daddy. Now! Please!”

Grinning, Severus carefully extracted his cock, which was still hard as marble. More water spilled out, but Hermione snapped her cheeks together to hold in the rest.

“Hold on, let me help you down.”

He pushed aside the wet nappy and, scooping her up, lightly set her on the floor. 

Hermione was running before her feet could hit the carpet. The room blurred around her. Bearsbathroomsinktubtoilet.

Lunging toward her goal, the frigid bowl chilled her in a shock of porcelain.

Thank gods! She’d made it! Her guts cramped and burbled, but she was too relieved to register the discomfort. Just the embarrassment. Hiding her face in her hands, she pretended the liquid roar beneath her was a plumbing problem she couldn’t hear. 

Severus came in, which was both good and bad. She liked the way he took care of her, but she didn’t want him to see her sitting there with a waterfall shooting out of her arse. 

As if oblivious to her plight, he calmly approached and pulled her face against his stomach, just as he had the first time. No longer on display, her humiliation short-circuited, and in less than three seconds her body had gone limp. His long fingers wove through her hair to massage her scalp, and Hermione closed her eyes as a stream of whispered praise fell from his lips, hypnotizing her with a steady flow of aural porn.

When her bum finally ran dry, which seemed to take forever, he patted her back to bring her out of hiding. “Are you empty, love?’

“I think so, Daddy.”

“Okay, let me dry you off.”

He cleaned her with a wave of his hand and sent a warm blast of air over her bum, which made her squeak in surprise

Snape snickered, almost snorting. “Did you like that?”

“Yes, Daddy. Again!”

The warm air reappeared. “Better?”

“It’s niiiice.”

“Are you tired now?”

“Yes.” Bloody hell, she could sleep for a week!

“All right. Let’s go in the other room. I want to make sure you’re recovered before dinner.”

He helped her up then led her back to the bed, where he peeled off her shirt but left her in her socks and bunches. They got in together, and he arranged her so her head was on his heart and his fading sex was warm against her stomach. When he gave the back of her neck an affectionate tickle, she curled into the safety of his chest.

“I assume you want to do more of this in the future,” he said knowingly.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“I love taking care of you, baby girl.”

She beamed, her cheeks glowing. “I love the way you take care of me, Daddy. Are you sure you’ve never done this with anyone else?”

His exhalation sounded like a chuff of amusement. “I don’t think anyone else wants this side of me.”

“Draco might,” she suggested quietly. “Maybe not quite the way I do, but he likes to be taken care of.”

“Yes, he does,” Severus agreed. “But Draco doesn’t want a daddy—he wants a mummy.”

Hermione looked up at him. “Are you suggesting _I_ should be his new mummy?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know if Draco actually wants to play mummy with you the way you just played Daddy with me, but he wants you to love and care for him the way a mother would.”

For some reason, hearing Severus state Draco’s needs so bluntly made everything fall into place. Even though Draco responded favorably to her domination—whether forceful or teasing—his underlying need was something much more instinctual. More complex. It was painfully clear he’d been looking for someone to fill the affection-void Narcissa had left, but Hermione had never considered tailoring her approach to meet that need so specifically. They’d kind of drifted in that direction, but only because Hermione drew so much of what she did to him from what Severus did to her.

But she could easily take it further. Much further.

“So you want a little girl, and Draco wants a mummy,” Hermione said as if taking inventory. “What does Lucius want? How do I be the princess he needs?”

“I think you’re already the princess he needs. You don’t have to do anything special. Just let him take care of you the way he does best.”

“So I should let him buy me things and cover me in diamonds?”

“I think you already know why he does that.”

She nodded. “He wants to provide. It makes him feel useful. He told me.”

Both of Severus’s black brows popped to his hairline. “Did he? That’s rather open and honest for Lucius.”

"You're pretty open and honest yourself.”

He ran his fingers over her flushed face, tracing the corners of her mouth. “Enjoy it while you can. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”

Hermione pressed her hand to his chest as if she could keep him as he was with physical force. She didn’t want this Severus to go anywhere. She didn’t want to see him retreat back into himself and shut everyone out. She didn’t want him to be alone. “Do you love Lucius?”

He gave her a funny look, and hummed a noncommittal, “Hmmmmm.”

“He loves _you_.”

“Did he say that?”

“He said it’s complicated, but I understood. I wish you two would be more honest with each other. I’d think you’d both want as many people loving you as possible.”

The divot between Snape’s brows deepened to a gully. “It’s not that easy for us. Love can be dangerous.”

She could see where Lucius and Severus were coming from with that whole  “love is a battlefield” mentality, but unfortunately, in the long run, the effort they put into protecting their scarred hearts was more damaging than the abandonment they so desperately sought to avoid.  “I don’t think Lucius would ever hurt you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not worried about Lucius hurting me. It’s not that.”

“What is it?”

“It’s . . .” He looked away, a pained scowl cinching his lips. “It’s my past. It’s Lucius’s past. We’re both haunted by mistakes and . . . loss. Neither of us grew up in particularly pleasant households, and to say openness was discouraged would be a crude understatement. That’s just how it was back then. Lucius and I are comfortable with the way we are. We understand each other.”

Hermione turned her face to the side and rested her cheek on his heart. “That’s really sad, Severus.”

“Why?”

“Because even the most stoic warriors need to hear I love you now and then. Even if they already know it.”

Snape trailed his fingers over the nape of her neck. “Perhaps.”

“You’re a very stubborn man,” she murmured, placing a kiss to his nipple.

“So I’ve been told.”

“But I love you anyway.”

His fingers froze. “What did you say?”

She propped her chin on his chest and met his eye. “I said I love you anyway. And I know you already knew, so don’t pretend you didn’t see this coming. I love you and Draco and Lucius, and even if you and Lucius can’t say it right now, that doesn’t mean you don’t need to hear it. I understand why you’re holding back, and I’m okay with that. You’ll say it when you’re ready . . . or you’ll just stay silent forever. Either way, I think all three of you deserve to hear the truth. If it makes your life a little better, I want you to know.”

Severus just stared at her for a minute, still and unblinking. Finally, he swallowed loudly and whispered, “I can’t say it back.”

“I know. That’s all right. I didn’t expect you to. But I still love you. Are you okay with that?”

A look of confusion blinked over his face. “Yes.”

“Good. So I can say it, and it won't upset you?”

“It . . . won’t upset me.”

“Then I’ll say it every day. I’ll have to find a way to tell Lucius soon. He needs to hear it too, and I don’t want him to think I love him any less.”

“You’re a sweet witch,” he muttered, possibly to himself. “I think maybe we’re more damaged than you realize.”

No, she knew; she just wasn’t going to let their reluctance stifle this amazing thing they had going. “Maybe. But that doesn’t change the way I feel.”

The door to the hall creaked open, and Hermione and Severus both turned to see Draco peeking around the edge.

“Are you two busy?”

Severus waved him over. “We were just talking.”

Draco glanced around the room as if worried he'd interrupted their play. “Is it time to take a bath? I’m cold . . . and a bit sticky.”

Hermione grinned. “I’ll get you warm.” Looking up at Severus, she waggled her eyebrows. “Want to give me a bath, Daddy?”

His lips ticked up, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course I will. When I’m done, perhaps you should give Draco a bath.”

Hermione’s grin curled to a lecherous leer. “That was the plan.”

“All right,” he chuckled, giving in to her levity. “I’ll need a minute to clean up everything from earlier.”

“’Kay.” She wiggled higher and pecked his nose. “I love you, Daddy. Will you tuck me in tonight and kiss me so I have nice dreams?”

He seemed to be lost in thought, but he nodded, and when he leaned in to kiss her, his black eyes were solemn with promise. “Every night, baby . . . every single night.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lullaby—a soothing refrain; specifically : a song to quiet children or lull them to sleep.
> 
> “Time of the Season” by The Zombies. Written by Rod Argent (the Zombies’ keyboard player) and released in 1968. <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=qzpPy9hJYA8>
> 
> Colonel Brandon—This is just a little Easter egg for my fellow Rickmaniacs. Colonel Brandon is Alan Rickman’s character in Sense and Sensibility.
> 
> “I Feel Pretty” is from West Side Story. Music by Leonard Bernstein and Lyrics by Stephen Sondheim.
> 
> “Love is a Battlefield” Song by Pat Benatar. Written by Holly Knight and Mike Chapman.
> 
> The Cockpopolis National Anthem is sung to the tune of “Food Glorious Food” from the musical Oliver, and is as follows: 
> 
>  
> 
> _Cock glorious cock_  
>  (And) Hot custard filled bollocks  
> Harder than a rock  
> Thrusting twixt my buttocks
> 
>  
> 
> My pussy deserves the credit for this song as she came up with it on the spot when I pushed for an example to use.


	50. Al Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yeah, so these chapters took a lot more rewriting than I thought, and they were longer than I realized (a maddening combination). But I’ve got six chapters all lined up and ready to go! I’ll release one each day till I get them all posted. So much plotty goodness in store. There’s actually not any sex for a bit, (I know, you guys are going to go into withdrawal) but I’ll make up for it later <3  
> Also, many many thanks to everyone for the support and reviews. It means so much to me.  
> 

50—Al Fine

“When you're down and troubled and you need some love and care and nothing, no nothing, is going right . . .”—Carole King

(Hermione) 

Hermione tore her fingers through her hair and growled at the deluge of memos obliterating her desk. How could her day possibly be _this_ horrid? She’d practically floated through her weekend, high on her supercharged sex drive, but thanks to the worst Monday in recorded history, all her happy pussy mojo had been drained in less than an hour. 

Running on empty, her head began to throb—that vein in her temple pulsing like an alarm. She didn’t have time for a headache. There were reports to file with five different departments and interviews she needed to finish before she took her final summaries to the Justice Department. And _that_ little meeting was bound to be an absolute joy, because apparently no one gave a shit about house-elf abuse unless the accused was someone famous.

Normally, she would have spent the day preparing her evidence, but Flo, who acted as her second in command, had fire-called in sick; so Hermione’s workload had doubled with no notice. She could have delegated some of it to Darrell, but he was young and inexperienced, and he had a habit of making the most asinine mistakes when under pressure. Hermione couldn’t risk him blowing their future cases on some technicality.

The weight of her entire division rested on her shoulders. And it was about to crush her.

A pale violet paper airplane dive-bombed her desk, interrupting her internal tirade with its flappy wings. _Stupid inter-office memos!_

Hermione smashed it open with her palm and scanned the message.

Great. Now the head of the department wanted to see her. Because she clearly wasn’t busy enough. No, no—she needed to go muck about in Hiddleman’s office, pretending to be a gracious employee while he, once again, denied her funding request.

Cracking her neck, Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath; Mr. Hiddleman was actually a decent fellow, and she didn’t want to rip his head off.

Not without a nice pike to display it on.

 _Okay, let’s get this over with._

Hermione forced herself out of her chair and trudged down the hall to his door, her heels heavy as lead. Using the sharp tips of her knuckles, she knocked—possibly with more vehemence than intended.

A morose groan came from inside, and Hiddleman called out, “Come in,” but it sounded as if he really meant “run.”

Hermione opened the door and edged into his overcrowded office, sidestepping a mountain of files to reach his desk. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Hiddleman?”

He nodded and waved a leathery hand in her direction. “Please sit down, Hermione.”

Sliding into the only chair not buried under paperwork, she steeled herself for the blow. His aura was all dark and splotchy. Bad sign.

“Hermione,” he started—then paused and rubbed his face as if he hadn’t slept well. “I have to tell you something. And it’s going to break your heart. But please know I did everything in my power to change their minds.”

She’d never seen him so upset about a funding refusal. “It’s not your fault, Mr. Hiddleman. Maybe they’ll have more money set aside next time.”

He winced. “There’s not going to be a next time.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“They’re disbanding your unit. There’s not going to be a Creature Justice Division after this week.”

“WHAT!” She sprang out of the chair and glared down at him. “They can’t do that!”

“I’m so sorry, Hermione. If it makes you feel any better, it's not just you; they’re cutting several other units as well. There just isn’t enough money.” 

“NO!” She refused to hear him. It had to be some horrible mistake. “What about all our cases?”

“We’ll hand them over to Justice, and they’ll do what they can.”

“No they won’t! Bennett is a self-obsessed peacock who just wants to make a name for himself. He doesn’t care about creature rights!”

Hiddleman sighed, not disagreeing with her. “I argued for you all last week. They’re not budging. If you’d like, I can get you a job in another department. Anyone would be glad to have you working for them. But . . . hmm . . .”

She stared at his reluctant grimace in disbelief. What could he possibly say that would upset her more? “WHAT?”

“Blast it,” he muttered. “Hermione, I really like you. You’re a warm-hearted witch and an asset to this department.”

“But?”

“But I think I should tell you . . . I’ve been hearing some nasty rumors about you lately.” His hands flew up in mock surrender when a look of mutiny crossed her face. “I don’t believe a word of it; it’s ridiculous. But I just wanted you to know . . . if the rumors persist, it could hurt your chances of securing another position.”

“And what brilliant rumors has the gossip train delivered to my door this time?” she seethed through her teeth.

His expression turned sour. “I don’t want to say.”

“I need to know if I’m going to deal with it.”

Mr. Hiddleman reached into his desk and took out a small phial of pink potion. He tipped the contents down his throat and clutched his chest. “My stomach is flaring up again.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I still need to know.”

Peering up at her with an apologetic moue, he nodded. “They’re saying you’re not just dating Draco, that you’re living with him and . . . you know . . . Lucius is there . . .” He swiped the top of his bald head as if he could rub the idea out of his brain. “Now you know everybody down in International loves Draco, but Lucius is still a pariah. He’ll never escape all the suspicion.”

Hermione bit her tongue and kept her face blank. She'd learned a lot about successful poker faces from Snape. “Well, isn’t that interesting.”

Mr. Hiddleman chuckled wryly. “I guess I’m just full of good news, aren’t I? Again, I’m really sorry, Hermione.”

Sinking back into the chair, Hermione stared at her shoes but didn’t really see them. Arguing with Hiddleman was pointless. He wasn’t the one who decided these things. Perhaps she could appeal to Kingsley, but everyone knew he was in Sri Lanka for another week. “So . . . should I just leave? I don’t know what to do.”

“Hermione, if you want to go home, I understand. There’s not really anything you can do except take that case to Bennett yourself and make sure he sees all the evidence you’ve gathered.”

Hermione felt like curling up on the floor and crying. She couldn't believe ten years of hard work could be wiped out in the blink of an eye. And what about all those creatures who still needed help? What would they do? Bennett wasn't going to take their cases seriously. Too bad Carline had to retire a year earlier; she would have been an ally in the Justice Department. Fuck! Why was this happening now?

“I’ll pack my desk,” she mumbled, her lips resisting the words. “Thanks for all your support over the years, Mr. Hiddleman.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help, Hermione, just say the word. Reference letters. Personal owls. You name it.”

She scrounged up a wan smile. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Don’t worry about Darrell and Flo. I’ll talk to them. I think I’ve already got another job set up for Darrell. And Flo should be okay; she’s a tough old bird.”

“Tell her I’ll talk to her soon. Once she’s on her feet again.”

“Of course I will. Would you like some help with your desk?”

She shook her head and started for the door. “I don’t have much.”

"Good luck with Draco,” he said gently. “You two seem good for each other.”

Flashing him a sad smile over her shoulder, she nodded. “Thanks.”

Hermione stepped out into the bustle of the department and stared blankly at her surroundings. The whole floor looked different, as if she’d never seen it before. People sped past, blurs of color and sound. She couldn’t see their faces, couldn’t bear to look at them. 

Near the mouth of the crowded corridor, she saw Harry peeking over cubicle walls, probably searching for her. She'd have to tell him their lunch date was off. Indefinitely. Maybe Draco could catch him up on what he'd missed while on paternity leave. Lifting her hand in an awkward wave, she got his attention, and he jogged over.

He wasn’t smiling.

“Hermione, what the hell is going on?” Harry said in a low voice. “My first day back at work and it’s like the whole Ministry’s gone insane! What’s all this about you dating Draco? That’s not true, is it?”

Shit. Of all the days for him to find out—fuck! “Harry, now’s not a good time.”

“So, it’s true,” he sputtered, his eyes bulging. “You’re seriously dating Draco?”

Mashing her lips in a tense line, she held his gaze. _You’d better come clean. Don’t make this any worse than it already is._ “We’re not just dating; I’m living with him.”

“Are you mental!”

The entire floor went still and turned to look at them. 

Blushing, Hermione grabbed Harry by the sleeve and dragged him to her corner cubicle. “Shhhhh! Don’t do this to me now,” she pleaded in a whisper.

“Why the hell not?” he whispered-shouted back. “Is there a better time to find out if your best friend has lost her mind? I could accept you being friends with him, Hermione—he’s changed. But you’re _living_ with him? After everything he’s done to us?”

With a queasy groan, Hermione pressed her fist into her churning stomach; she could do with some of Mr. Hiddleman’s pink potion. “Harry, please don’t be upset. I didn’t mean for you to find out this way. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't figure out how. I know this seems like it’s coming out of nowhere, but . . . I love Draco.”

Harry looked as if he was having a stroke. “You _love_ him?” he muttered to himself. “ _Malfoy?_ ”

She nodded.

“The ferret?”

“Please don’t call him that.”

“Hermione,” Harry dropped his voice and looked around to make sure they weren’t being overheard, “are you living at Malfoy Manor? Is Lucius . . . I mean . . . how is all that working out?”

Hermione stared at him. She wasn’t ready for a confrontation like this—not after the morning she’d had. “He’s . . . fine.” Oh bollocks, she’d hesitated too long. And she’d broken eye contact. So much for playing it cool. 

Harry’s gaze narrowed. He’d seen. His pretty blue aura darkened, and he jerked away from her as if she were infected. “What the hell have you been doing?” he breathed. “Is something going on between you and Lucius— _Lucius_ —the man who tried to kill us?”

Dammit! If she denied it, it would sound as if she were ashamed of Lucius. She couldn’t do that to him. “He’s not like that now. He’s . . .” she trailed off when she saw the revulsion twisting Harry’s features.

“Oh, God, it’s true—you’re shagging Lucius-fucking-Malfoy. And his son. That’s just . . .” His head began to shake in disgust, but then suddenly, as if someone had pulled a plug in his neck, his face drained of color, and he grabbed her by the shoulders. “McGonagall came to see James last weekend, and she told me Snape suddenly up and retired—and left Malfoy Manor as his forwarding address. I thought he was just avoiding the public, staying with an old mate, but . . . oh my God!”

Dammit! He was putting it together. His face flickered with a variety of emotions, and the wheel of expressions settled on stupefied fury.

“You’re living with him too, aren’t you? They’re all there—those sick fucks! Snape _and_ Lucius? AND Draco? Jesus Christ, Hermione! I think I’m gonna be sick.” He _was_ awfully pale. “What the hell’s wrong with you! Are you fucking your way through the whole damn Slytherin directory?”

“How could you say that to me?” she hissed.

“I can’t believe you, Hermione. Snape may have risked his life to protect me—and don't think I'm not grateful for what he did—but that doesn’t mean he’s a nice person. He’s dangerous. And cruel. What are you thinking?”

“Harry, please, I’m begging you, don’t do this to me. I can’t deal with you being angry at me on top of everything else.” The tears came then, stabbing at the backs of her eyes when she refused to let them fall.

“If they’re causing you so much trouble, you should get out now, before they seriously hurt you. Why are you doing this to yourself? Is this some kind of cry for help?”

Angry heat flared through her. Clenching her teeth, Hermione bristled to her full height and, leaning into Harry, jabbed her finger in his face. “Thank your for your concern, but I’m doing just fine. I happen to be very happy—with all three of them. Fuck you if you don’t want to be happy for me.” The tears won their freedom and spilled down her cheeks in white hot streams. “There are plenty of people who _do_ want me to be happy. I’m going home to at least one of them right now, because THEY’VE JUST FUCKING FIRED ME! My life’s work is gone. Destroyed. So thank you for making this one of the worst days of my life. I knew you and Ron wouldn’t take this well, but I didn’t think you’d start accusing me of losing my mind. If you were _really_ my friend, you’d accept that I’ve found something that works for me. Maybe it’s strange and unorthodox—but it _isn’t_ wrong. I’ve never felt more right.”

The contempt in Harry’s eyes pierced her like a dagger.

“But I see I was hoping for too much. Well, I don’t have the patience to deal with this right now; so if you’ll excuse me, I'm going home to talk to someone who doesn’t criticize my life or question my sanity.”

She tore off her work robes and threw them in the chair. They were somebody else’s problem now. Turning on her heel, she stormed past her stunned ex-co-workers and made for the lift, leaving Harry staring after her with his mouth hanging open.

The lift doors closed behind her, and Hermione burst into tears, folding in two as the sobs wracked her body. Her life was over. Everyone was going to find out about her and Lucius and Draco and Severus; and if that was how her best friend reacted, she couldn’t even imagine how bad it was going to be when the rest of the world got wind of their arrangement. She’d never find another place to work in Britain. Not a job she wanted anyway. Even the famous Hermione Granger couldn’t live down something this sordid.

She was ruined. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Al Fine—to the end; a direction to play to the end (as in D.C al Fine or D.S. al Fine).
> 
> “You’ve Got a Friend” by Carole King. Written by Carole King and released in 1971 on her album Tapestry, which is one of the best-selling albums of all time. Won the Grammy for Best Song of the Year in 1972.  
> This is the only time in the story that I use the same song for multiple chapters. Fifty, fifty-one, and fifty-two will all be lyrically tied together.  
> <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qde5NMy7WTU>


	51. Lacrimoso

51—Lacrimoso  


“. . . close your eyes and think of me, and soon I will be there to brighten up even your darkest night.”—Carole King  


(Severus)   


Severus froze, knife poised above the half-chopped zucchini, listening as the ominous, oscillating hum of his alert charms grew to a metallic throb in the cold steel kitchen.   


The front door had been opened—but no one was expected home until dinner. He’d set the security wards to only admit the Malfoys, Hermione, and himself. Anyone else needed an escort.   


But there were ways around that if one was clever enough.  


Trading his knife for his wand, he suspended his duties as chef and slipped into the familiar role of spy. He crept through the halls, making his way toward the front door, silent as velvet on satin. As he passed through the shadows of the east wing, he heard someone crying in the foyer, and the anguish of that sound sped his gait to a hushed jog.  


He slowed to a stop at the final turn and, taking advantage of the low light and sharp angle of his approach, peered around the corner, his eyes darting in all directions at once.   


_What the devil?_    


A jumbled heap of what appeared to be Hermione had collapsed into the chair by the front door—and she was sobbing so hard it sounded as if she were about to retch.  


“Hermione?” Severus muttered as he entered the hall, his arm dropping to his side, the panic of possible home invasion fading to confusion. “What’s wrong? Why are you home? Are you hurt?”  


When he took a knee to search her for wounds, she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him so hard his vision went dim. What the hell was going on? A reel of horrifying scenarios flickered across his mind’s eye. Was she sick? Had there been an attack? Had something happened to Draco at work?  


"Baby?” he whispered, placing his hands on her back to still her shaking. “What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”  


“Th-they—they fired me,” she hiccuped. “The whole C-Creature Justice unit is g-g-gone.”  


Although somewhat bewildered, Severus held her tighter, relieved no physical harm had befallen her or Draco. “I’m so sorry, love. I know how much that position means to you. But there’s no need to worry; I’m sure the owl offers will be pouring in once everyone hears the famous Hermione Granger is up for grabs.”  


Her crying surged to a wail.   


Bloody hell, he didn’t know she was so in love with the Ministry.  


“Noooo, they won’t,” she groaned. “H-Harry knows, and so w-will everyone else soon.”  


Her reply was so convoluted it took him a moment to work out what she could possibly mean. “While I agree that Potter’s manners are questionable, I hardly think he'll blame you for being let go. And neither will anyone else.”  


“No,” she gasped and then hiccuped again, this time in his ear. “I mean, he knoooows. About us. _All_ of us. Everyone has f-figured out I'm shacking up with Draco, and they're already speculating about Lucius. When they find out y-you're here too, th-they're gonna work out what's go-ing on.” Fresh sobs ripped through her in convulsive waves, and she crumpled in his arms.  


For a split second Snape couldn’t move. His eyes lost focus, and the chair’s ornate back blurred to a wreck of color. _Fuuuuuuuuuck_ _!_  


How long would it take gossip like this to spread? How much time did they have until their lives turned completely upside down? A week? A month?  


Severus had long ago accepted the role of outcast, but since receiving that Order of Merlin, he’d grown accustomed to not being reviled. Well, that was over; it had been nice while it lasted. Lucius had never regained his popularity after the war, so he didn’t have far to fall. Draco, however, had made a name for himself at the Ministry and most people considered him rehabilitated if not outright likable. But for someone as exalted as Hermione, a man needed to be flawless, not just well-liked. Her adoring fans would crucify him.  


Fuck fuck fuck! Once this got out, Hermione wasn’t going to have any adoring fans. She’d be branded a traitor. Or insane. And no one was going to hire a witch who lived with three ex-Death Eaters. She’d never be trusted.  


Severus sank his fingers into her hair and stroked the back of her head, desperate to protect her from the encroaching storm but unsure how. “Come on, love. Let me take you someplace more comfortable. Keep your arms around me and don’t let go.”  


He rose, and as she unfolded, he drew her pencil skirt above her hips so she could wrap her legs around him. When he lifted her into his arms, her thighs wound around his hips without prompting, and she clung to him with a strength born of abject grief. Severus carried her to the drawing room and took a seat on the nearest sofa. While brocaded loveseats and crystal vases had never struck him as soothing, at least her cries were no longer echoing back on them like a torture chamber. Rubbing the nape of her neck, he encouraged her to relax, but she stayed locked around him, her thighs squeezing his hips, her wet face smashed into his shoulder.  


She cried as if it were the end of the world, which, maybe for her, it was. Sickened by the idea that her mere association with him had caused so much strife, Severus cursed himself, damning his past and its demons. When he alone had been the sole casualty of his many mistakes, he’d borne the burden without complaint; but now those ghosts had latched onto the one woman he cared about, and the shame of bringing her such suffering made him physically ill.  


She didn’t deserve this. Her life was devoted to helping others, to standing up for victim’s rights. Even if she fucked a hundred Death Eaters, that didn’t negate all her years of selfless work and sacrifice. She was a bloody saint—albeit a saint with a smart mouth and a penchant for kink; but that changed nothing! He’d never met such a fireball of fierce care, a witch always ready to speak for those without a voice.  


Dammit! _May those Ministry parasites rot in hell!_ Quietly seething, Severus imagined himself as her avenging angel, leaving a trail of bloodied administration personnel scattered across the Ministry’s polished atrium.  


He hadn’t had such violent fantasies since the war, and a part of him cringed at the thought of venturing down that bleak road once more.   


But another part of him rejoiced.   


Passion could be either inspiring or destructive—or in his case both—but no matter the result, feeling that strongly about anything gave one’s life purpose; it demanded action and fueled the fire in a man’s belly. A fire he’d forgotten existed until Hermione. In that instant he realized he’d do anything for her. Literally. Anything to keep her safe, to protect her. Anything to make her happy. 

And he knew very well that violence wouldn’t make her happy. Quite the opposite. He just hated feeling helpless, and punishing those who had hurt her, even if it was only in his head, provided some consolation.  


Perhaps it was time to seek out a healthier outlet for his anger issues.  


When her crying began to slow, Severus used his wand to unclog her sinuses, and that must have been more magical than he’d anticipated, because her next exhalation held no sob, and she settled against him, soft as an angel, the energy around her shifting from woe to recovery.  


Relieved, Severus smoothed down her hair with one hand and kissed her fevered temple. “Are you all right to talk? Can you explain to me what happened?”  


Hermione tucked her face into his neck and nodded. “Mr. Hiddleman told me they’re cutting several units, and mine was one of them” Her voice had gone hoarse from crying, and each word cracked under the weight of her sorrow. “He said he’d do anything he could to help me find a new job; but then he pretty much told me to find another job as soon as possible, because he’d heard some rumors that might make things difficult for me. He thought they were lies . . . and I didn’t correct him. But then Harry was looking for me, and he started hounding me about Draco, demanding to know if I was really dating him, and when I told him I was living here, he asked me how I was dealing with Lucius; and he must have seen the truth in my eyes, because he freaked out and called me a Slytherin whore.”  


Severus saw red. “I’ll kill him,” he growled. “I can’t believe that arrogant little shit actually said that to you!”  


She backpedaled immediately. “Well, he didn’t use those _exact_ words. But then he accused me of not being sane and made it sound like I was purposely hurting myself by seeing you three.”  


The prickly heat of vengeance melted back down below Snape's collar. “And how did you respond?”  


Her body went limp against him, and her shoulders shook as she began to cry again. “I basically told him fuck off.”  


Severus smiled into her hair. _Good girl._  


“I told him I was happy and said if he cared about me, he’d get over it and let me be. Then I screamed at him that I’d just lost my job and made a big scene. So I’m sure by now the entire Ministry knows I've been sacked.”  


A frantic pecking came from the window, and they both turned to see a small brown owl fighting the glass pane. Flicking his wand, Severus opened the window, and the bird swooped in with a fretful hoot. Alighting on the arm of the couch, it held out its leg and hopped about as if it had a bomb strapped to its foot rather than a bit of parchment.  


Severus removed the scroll and squinted at the minute scrawl. “It’s from Draco. He wants to know if you’re here and if you’re all right. He went to get you at lunch, and someone from your department told him what happened. He says he’s sneaking out early to come home.”  


“Write him back so he knows I’m okay. I don’t want him to worry.”  


" _Are_ you okay?”  


“I don’t know!” She curled into a little ball, practically burrowing into his armpit. “I kind of want to bury myself in a hole and stay there until everyone’s forgotten about me.”  


Severus kissed the top of her head, sympathetic to those sentiments. “I promise it won’t always feel like this. Scandals can't go on forever. But . . . if you want to move out to keep up appearances, I think we’d all understand.”  


Sitting bolt upright, she gawked at him as if he had five heads. “I’m not leaving! Everyone else may have turned their backs on me, but you three haven’t! You’re here for me every single day.” Fresh tears streamed down her face. “I need you!”  


“All right,” he murmured, pulling her back in. “We need you too. I just want to do what’s best for you.”  


" _You're_ what's best for me."  


Severus pressed his face into her hair. He didn’t know if that was true, but he wanted it to be. “I’ll owl Draco and Lucius and let them know what’s happened. But that can wait until I’ve gotten you settled. Tell me what I can do for you. What do you need?”  


“Just hold me.”  


“Of course,” he whispered, squeezing her even tighter. “But there must be something more I can do. Would you like to lie down? I could get you a Calming Draught.”  


Her stomach chose that particular moment to rumble, and she put her hand to it. “I guess maybe I could do with a snack.”  


“I’ll make you lunch. What would you like? A sandwich?”  


“Ice cream.”  


Snorting, Severus shook his head. “You need real food after the day you’ve had. Actual nourishment. Sandwich first, ice cream after.”  


“Will you make me a cheese toastie?”  


"I just baked a fresh loaf of sourdough this morning, and we currently have enough varieties of cheese to feed the the entire French army; I can make you the finest cheese toastie the world has ever known. Do you want to change your clothes first?"  


“Will you change them for me?”  


Sweet Circe on a sultana! Was she trying to kill him? He wanted to strip off all her clothes and kiss every inch of her body until she couldn't remember her name let alone the tragedy of the day. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure if that would be considered selfish or helpful, and he didn’t want to pressure her by asking. “I’ve got some princess panties I’ve been saving for you. Do you want to be my little girl, or do you just want to rest?”  


"I want to be your little girl . . . and Lucius will like seeing me in princess panties."  


Severus chuckled and rested his cheek against her head. “Who knows; he just might.”  


-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-  


Severus kept her by his side for the rest of the day. She must have been chilly in only a tee shirt and knickers, but she never once complained. While he finished preparing that night’s meal, Hermione picked at her lunch until her sandwich lay crumbled and smeared all over her plate like a greasy crime scene. That ice cream she’d been so excited about having wound up melting to a sugary soup, its chocolate chips wallowing in a swamp of marshmallow goo. Her lack of appetite worried him, but given the circumstances, it was understandable, so he only mentioned the fluid state of her dessert once before vanishing the remains.   


After lunch, in a bid to distract her troubled mind, Severus carried her down to his lab, and she sat on the counter while he brewed. He showed her the progress he’d made with the Tentacula venom, and as the potion simmered, she scoured his notes, searching for any possible solutions to his venom conundrum. She said she couldn’t think of anything he hadn’t already tried, but then, hugging him round the neck, told him she was sure he’d figure it out soon.   


He had to admit, having her in the lab made failing far more pleasant.  


When the brewing proved fruitless, and he could no longer bear the sight of his cauldron, Snape carried her back upstairs, and they sat in the library for over an hour, holding each other and kissing. There was no lust involved, just an unhurried brush of lips and fingers that spoke of simple tenderness.  


He wound up hard as a rock, which perturbed him, as he wasn’t looking for a lay; but Hermione seemed enchanted by the prodding; and the way his erection twitched in response to her kisses actually got her to smile, so he couldn’t bemoan its unseemly rebellion with any real conviction.  


Lucius and Draco returned home at precisely the same time, and both Malfoys burst in on them mid-snog, keen to determine her state of mind for themselves. Draco got to the sofa first, and smooth as silk, pulled her into his lap. The household’s Head Hugger had arrived, and Snape couldn’t have been more relieved. While his own strengths lent themselves to untangling her knotted mind, when it came to mending a broken heart, Draco was the better man for the job.  


Draco enveloped her in a hug and proceeded to cover her cheek in a noisy smattering of kisses. “Are you okay, love? Everyone said you bit off Harry’s head and then stormed out. I didn’t hear a peep about all the cutbacks until I ran into Jeanette’s friend, Betty, and she told me six other subsections are gone. I thought I might be able to talk to someone in Shacklebolt’s office about bringing you back, but then I heard they got rid of you because . . .” He glanced at Snape, a look of guilt pinching his brow. “Because of the rumors. They’re saying you were a liability.”  


Hermione growled in frustration and pulled at her face with both hands. “I don’t want to talk about the goddamn Ministry anymore! I can't stand all this petty scheming and maneuvering. I’m fighting for creatures’ lives and they’re jockeying for political power! And you notice they conveniently waited till Kingsley was out of town before announcing anything. They knew he’d object, and now they can claim ignorance and pretend they were just doing it for financial reasons.” Her tirade ended as quickly as it had begun, and she slumped as if all the wind had been taken out of her sails. “I feel wretched about yelling at Harry though. He was right to be angry; I should have told him about you straight away. I shouldn't have hidden all this. What kind of person doesn’t even tell her best friends that she’s moved? My God, what if he’d gone to my old flat looking for me?”  


“You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone,” Lucius interjected. “If I went arou—“ He abruptly stopped and, narrowing his eyes, looked her up and down. “What _are_ you wearing?”  


That seemed to snap her out of her funk. At least temporarily. With a bashful smile, she wiggled out of Draco's lap and smoothed down her shirt so Lucius could see. Printed across the front, large looping letters proclaimed her _Daddy’s Little Princes_. The cartoon tiaras and scepters on her knickers made for a whimsical exclamation point.  


“Don’t I look nice?” she asked quietly. “Severus dressed me.”  


Lucius quirked a brow in Snape’s direction. “Did he? I can’t say it’s quite my taste—but I am fond of the princess motif. Do _you_ like it?”  


"Mm-hm.” She slipped her arms around Malfoy's waist and curled into him. “He made me lunch too. A cheese toastie with a crown grilled into the bread. Posh, huh?”  


Breathing out a surprised chuckle, Lucius grinned at him over her head. “Very. I’m glad someone was here to take care of you.” It sounded as if he genuinely meant that second part.  


Severus waited for him to comment on the cheap plastic balls holding her hair in bunches, but Malfoy never said a word; he just lifted her chin and pressed his lips to hers in a long hello kiss.  


When he pulled back, his thumb lingered on her cheek, as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching her. “I’m so sorry about your day, love, but please don’t worry about finding a new job right away. I’ve got more than enough money for all of us. I can take care of you.”  


“It’s not about the money,” she said with a sigh. “It’s the work. I can’t stay at home, puttering around the manor, when there are so many creatures who need help.”  


“I know,” he whispered. “I just didn’t want you to worry.”  


A tender smile brightened her face, and she grazed Malfoy's cheek with the tips of her fingers. “Kiss me again. I’m a lot calmer when snogging is involved.”  


Lucius bowed his head, his smile matching hers. “I’m at your service, my queen,”  


Severus felt the corners of own lips lifting. While he liked being necessary, Draco’s easy affection and Lucius’s calming strength had been sorely missed, and he appreciated their talents even more after trying to fill in for them for five hours. “Hermione love, is it time for your bath now? I’m sure Lucius and Draco would love to join us. Three scrubbers are better than one.”  


Hermione’s face lit, and she looked up at Lucius. “I need all the cleaning I can get; I’m a _very_ dirty princess.”  


Lucius’s chuckle rumbled through the room. “Sounds perfect. A nice hot bath should help us all feel better.”  


Hermione tugged on his hand. “Good. Let’s go right now. Come on, Draco.”  


Draco mashed his lips in an apologetic smile and shook his head. “You go ahead, love; I’ll take a shower later. I have to go out. I’ll be back in a bit.”  


In a rare moment of overt surprise, Snape’s jaw almost hit the floor. Draco _lived_ for bath time with Hermione. What the hell did he have to do that was more important?  


“Where are you going?” Hermione asked in a small voice, obviously hurt by his refusal.  


“Just an errand.” Draco flashed her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be back before you know it.” He bent down for a kiss and then gave her hair a playful tug. “Leave in the bunches. They’re making me hot.”  


Hermione touched her hair, her mouth twitching in a tentative grin. “Okay.”  


After one last peck on the cheek, Draco ran for the door as if he were late for an appointment. “Don’t do anything too fun without me,” he shouted over his shoulder.  


Severus almost called him back, feeling the boy's absence before the door had even closed; but positive Draco would never leave at such a volatile time without good reason, he chose to hold his tongue.  


Hermione reached out a hand to Severus, wordlessly pleading with him not to hit her with another rejection. “Lucius hardly ever takes a bath with me. Can we show him my new vibrating rubber duck?”  


Snape nodded as he rose from the couch to take her hand. “Of course we can. Maybe you should tell him about our _other_ new game.”  


She caught on immediately, and her forehead furrowed into three tightly knit rows of apprehension. “Uhh . . . first you two kiss hello.” Before either of them could object, she added, “It'll make me feel better.”  


Lucius snickered at her sweet manipulation and gave Severus an appreciative look over her head. Sliding his hand behind Snape’s neck, he leaned in, grey eyes sparking like steel. “I think I’ve got a fairly good idea what you two have been playing.”   


He pressed his lips to Snape’s, and Severus returned the kiss, using his body to trap Hermione between them. Where she belonged.  


It had been a few days since their last kiss, and as soon as they met, a sense of calm settled over Severus. Lucius had become the longest lasting, most steady presence in his life, and since moving in with him, his kiss had begun to feel like home. Or what he assumed home would feel like if one came from a loving family. Severus relaxed into it, grateful for the support.  


When their breathing became too heavy to sound casual, Malfoy broke the connection, his eyes dark with lust, but his lips smug with satisfaction. Clearly he didn’t mind being forced into a welcome-home snog any more than Severus did.  


“So,” Lucius said, petting Hermione’s head but looking at them both, “Daddy Death Eater took care of our little princess today. I’m impressed.”  


“Don’t call him that,” Hermione chastised. “He was very sweet.”  


Lucius nodded. “I’m sure. Did he select this . . . _ensemble_ , or did you?”  


She angled her head backward to look at Snape upside down. “Severus picked it out.”  


“And after Daddy dressed you, did he sit you in his lap for a horsey ride?”  


Hermione sagged a little and rested her face against Malfoy’s chest. “No. I was crying too much for that.”  


Lucius grimaced, regret searing every line of his face. “I’m sorry, princess. I know how sad you must be. I wasn’t trying to make light of that.”  


“It’s okay.” She placed one hand on his heart as if he were the one in need of consoling. “I am sad, but I feel better now that you’re home. I wish Draco were here, but . . . I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”  


“He will be,” Severus murmured and leaned in to pin her firmly against Malfoy. “But in the meantime, Lucius and I are certainly capable of bathing you on our own.”  


“I’m looking forward to our bath,” Lucius purred. “I’ve never used a flannel to clean my little princess; she always insists I use my tongue.”  


Snickering into his chest, Hermione nodded, making it clear that was the only proper way to bathe a princess.   


Snape’s stomach unclenched. Lucius had already accepted their new dynamic and was using it to help her feel better, adjusting his game to suit her mood.  


It was Snape’s turn to be impressed. That was downright magnanimous for Lucius, who usually scorned any kink he deemed unworthy. Malfoy liked to give and take pleasure, but he did so on his own terms, playing by his rules.  


And now look at him, decades of sexual prejudice gone in an instant.   


Severus had to hand it to their little miracle worker—she had powers beyond anything he’d ever dreamed.  


He just hoped those powers benefited her as much as those she loved.   


She needed a miracle of her own.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lacrimoso—to play in a sad or plaintive style.


	52. Mosso

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey, everybody! Just a little side note before you begin. My oneshot, Puppy Love, is up for best comedy at the Granger Enchanted Awards. If you’d like to vote, it’s https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1dmntWZsZIADBkHcQqaBs1ocDVpIZ2pee?usp=sharing. (The category I’m in only has like three stories, and you’re allowed to vote for two.) Also, _At the Headmaster’s Discretion_ has been nominated for Best Smut, so please go and support Desert Sea if you love her as much as I do.  
>  Voting ends on the 7th.

52—Mosso  


“You’ve got a friend.”—Carole King  


(Draco)   


Draco rapped his knuckles against the white, weathered door and turned to give the neighborhood an appraising once-over. The word quaint came to mind, but he found the lack of privacy disturbing.   


And invasive. A sweaty man in a pit-stained vest had stopped mowing his lawn to openly stare, as if Draco’s mere presence were something he found suspicious. _Yes, Detective Dunderhead, all master thieves put on their nicest handmade Italian suits to go case a joint in broad daylight. You caught me._  


The front door squeaked open, and Draco whipped around, only to be slashed by the razor-sharp cutlass of Potter’s green glare.  


“Malfoy,” Harry sneered. “What are you doing here?”  


“I came to talk.”  


“I have nothing to say to you.”  


When the door began to close in his face, Draco flung up his hand to block it. “Please, Potter! This is important.”  


Harry’s scowl faltered.   


Hmm, perhaps Hermione had been right about please being a magic word.  


After a protracted pause that could only be described as rude, Potter yanked open the door and motioned inside with a tilt of his head. “If it’s that important, then you won’t mind saying it in front of my wife and child—and Ron and his wife.”  


As a Slytherin, Draco needed no Gryffindor field guide to understand what that really meant. It was a tactic employed by people who considered Slytherins one step above barbarians. They wanted witnesses and hoped a crowd would deter any nasty altercations.  


Only Draco wasn’t there to fight.  


He was there to humiliate himself for Hermione.   


Following Harry through to a sunny family room at the back of the cottage, Draco found Ginny and a brunette witch he didn’t know sitting on an overstuffed couch. In Ginny’s arms, folded in a soft yellow blanket, lay the most adorable baby Draco had ever seen in his entire life. The infant’s enormous eyes brimmed with bright curiosity, and his chubby cheeks emitted a rosy warmth fueled by unfiltered innocence. Draco had heard talk of James from Hermione, but it was nice to have a face to go with the name. And he could see why she was so enamored. Although the poor thing had been cursed with Potter’s hair, he’d gotten Ginny’s eyes, nose, and lips—all smushed together in a tiny elfin face that captivated a person faster than you could say _cuteness personified._  


Draco’s attention shifted as Ron rose from his seat across the room and drew his wand—and then aimed the tip straight at Draco’s head.  


How uncouth.  


“What the hell is he doing here?” Weasley demanded. “You’ve got some nerve, Malfoy.”  


Draco didn’t know what to say to that. While he and Harry had become amenable workplace acquaintances, Ron still labored under the misguided notion that Draco longed for a pureblood uprising.  


But not all the Weasleys were that obtuse. Draco had run into Ginny at several Ministry functions, and despite their families’ contentious past, she always spoke to him in a civil manner. Currently, she was the only adult in the room not glaring at him; she just seemed mildly puzzled by his presence.   


“Malfoy says he wants to talk,” Harry announced. “I told him he can talk—to all of us.” Sitting down next to Ginny, he waved his hand impatiently in Draco’s direction. “Well, go ahead. You’ve got five minutes, and then I have to be getting back to my _invited_ guests.”  


Draco heard the dare in his caustic tone but didn’t rise to the bait. “I know you think I came to pick a fight, but I really just want to talk to you.”  


Though Harry remained silent, he did nothing to discourage him from continuing.  


“Do you mind if I sit down?” Draco asked, indicating the free chair.  


Potter nodded at him to go ahead, and Draco perched himself on the edge of the seat. Looking down at his clasped hands, he pondered how to sway such a hostile jury. If he’d been talking to Hermione, he would’ve simply spoken from the heart and made his case through sheer transparency, but the people there didn’t love him the way Hermione did, and the possibility of ridicule made him hesitate.   


But how would he ever convince them of the truth unless he _told_ the truth? The answer to that riddle would cost him some pride. “I know we’ve had our differences over the years.”   


Ron snorted, and Draco threw him an annoyed glance.   


“But,” he went on, picking up where he’d left off as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “I know you don’t completely hate me.”  


Ron butted in again, “Don’t worry, I still hate you, Malfoy.”  


Surprisingly, it was the other Weasley who came to his defense. “Quiet, Ron. I want to hear this.”  


Draco sat up straighter. He had a chance. A ginger ray of hope had just burst through the clouds. “I know you probably won't believe me, but . . . I love Hermione. More than I can say. And she loves me. I can’t think of a way to prove how much she means to me, but I thought maybe if I came here and told you myself, that might be enough to at least get you to listen to her side of the story. Please come with me to the manor. Talk to her. Like, _really_ talk to her, without shouting or accusing her of anything. If you just see how happy she is with us, I think you’ll realize this isn’t as bad as you’re imagining. She’s the same girl you were friends with yesterday—the same girl you’ve been friends with for the past _sixteen years_ —nothing’s changed.”  


Harry made a grumbly sound of disagreement and folded his arms over his chest. “Everything’s changed. She’s basically been lying to us for months, and the Hermione I know doesn’t lie. If she loves you so much, then why didn't she ever mention you even once?”  


“Seriously? I think you’re answering your own question. Look how you reacted when you found out. _That’s_ why she’s not telling anyone. And add _two_ more men to that—those two men in particular? Please. People don't want to understand something like that; they'd just write her off as a slag.”  


“Well, what are people supposed to think?” Ron grumbled. “She’s sleeping with all three of you, isn’t she? What the hell are people supposed to call that?”  


Anger surged though Draco so violently his vision rippled. “Maybe they should call her a witch with a big enough heart to love three men.”  


“Three Death Eaters,” Ron corrected snidely.  


“Three EX-Death Eaters,” Draco shot back. “We were all pardoned. Snape's got an Order of Merlin for fuck’s sake!”  


"Language,” Ginny singsonged threateningly. “And no arguing. James just calmed down. He doesn’t like angry voices.”  


“Sorry,” Draco muttered, pressing the tips of his fingers into his forehead to ease the throbbing. “But I’m not going to sit here and listen to you call her a whore. What we’re doing may be unconventional, but it’s not the end of the world. She just loves more people than most.”  


James reached a pudgy hand toward Harry, and Harry automatically extended his finger for the baby to grasp. “And that doesn’t bother you, that she loves other men, one of them _your_ _father_?”  


Draco looked up at the ceiling, searching for an adequate explanation in the textured spackling. Nothing came to him. With a sigh, he dropped his chin and attempted to convey the complexity of the situation with a look; but in the end, he could only shrug. “It bothered me at first. Now it just seems normal. It would break her heart if one of us was gone, and I only want her to be happy.”

“Draco, I . . . I know you mean what you’re saying,” Harry said, raking his hand through his hair as if he wanted to rip it out. “But . . . this is too disturbing. You might be _tolerable_ now, but your father is still a monster. And Snape is . . . well . . . _Snape_. I have no idea how she can stand the lot of you.”  


Ginny canted her head to the side, her expression thoughtful rather than sickened. “You’ve had a lot of time to get used to the idea, but we’ve only just heard about it. It's a little hard to swallow with no warning.”  


"I understand. That's not why I came. I’m not trying to force an opinion on anyone. I just don’t want you to be fighting with Hermione right now. If she just knew you didn’t hate her, maybe that would be enough to get her through this.”  


Ron drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Hermione’s our best friend—we can hardly be expected to stand by and watch her throw her life away on the likes of you.”  


Draco somehow, somewhere, found a reserve of patience and managed not to curse the berk. "I am _not_ going to fight with you, Weasley. If you want to insult me, then go ahead; but if Hermione is really your friend, then you’ll stop treating her like a naïve imbecile who needs your protection. She’s perfectly capable of deciding who to love. You don’t have to agree with her choices—you just need a shred of loyalty.”  


Ron’s face went puce with rage.  


Harry, however, seemed far less agitated than he had earlier. “Does Hermione know you’re here?”   


“No.”  


“You just stopped by to try to convince us to talk to her?”  


“Pretty much.”  


Harry looked at Ginny and they seemed to be having a conversation with nothing but pointed looks and eyebrow signals, which must have been a married people thing, because Draco had seen his mother and father do the same thing.   


Although, now that he thought about it, he'd seen his father and Severus do it too.  


Potter nodded at Ginny and turned back to Draco. “Do all three of you love Hermione, or just you?”  


Draco had his doubts on that subject, but he knew what needed to be said. “We _all_ love her, but I really think you should discuss it with Hermione.”  


Harry took a deep breath and looked over at the baby, who blew a spit-bubble raspberry at him. Harry’s upper lip trembled in a reluctant smile, and he blew a small raspberry in return. “Okay,” he sighed. “I guess I’m willing to give Hermione a chance to explain herself. I owe her at least that much—and probably a whole lot more. Who wants to go with me?”  


“I’ll go for Hermione,” Ron said, “but I’m keeping out my wand the whole time.” Glowering at Draco, he added, “You can’t trust Slytherins.”  


Draco rolled his eyes, but he kept his mouth shut. _Don’t blow it now. You’ve almost got them._  


“I’m dying to talk to Hermione,” Ginny said, “but I can wait a couple days till things have calmed down.”  


The dark-haired witch shook her head. “I’ll stay here with Ginny.”   


“We should go now,” Draco said, rising to his feet. “The sooner the better. I don’t want this eating at her any longer than necessary.”  


“I’ll be back soon, Gin.” Harry leaned in and kissed the baby’s head. “Be good for Mummy, James.”  


Blindsided by the tender scene, Draco’s chest tightened.  


Ginny pecked Harry on the cheek and whispered something in his ear. He murmured an agreement and bussed her lips.  


“Let’s go,” Potter said, sliding his wand into his back pocket and motioning to Ron. They both tromped toward the front door as if setting off on a quest.  


But Draco didn’t move.   


Even though he knew Harry and Ginny had a child, it hadn't dawned on him until that moment that Potter was a father. A _father_. That couldn’t be right. Harry was a specky, scrawny boy who, in Draco’s mind, was permanently eleven years old. How could he be a dad?  


After everything he’d been through with his own father, Draco had never been drawn to the idea of procreation. But now Hermione was a part of the picture, and that changed everything. Everything. Suddenly, being a father sounded like a brilliant idea. Maybe the best idea ever. Should he ask Hermione how she felt about babies? If they did have a child together, what would it be like? Brainy? Attractive? Grey eyes? Brown?  


Coming back to himself, slightly dazed by the possibilities, Draco swallowed hard and nodded at Ginny. “That’s a really cute kid.”  


Ginny blinked in astonishment, but a twitch of amusement tugged her mouth into a lopsided smirk. “Thanks. We think so too.”  


Draco almost said they should be glad it took after her, but he kept the quip to himself. Hopefully Hermione would appreciate his restraint and reward him accordingly.   


He’d been one hell of a good boy that evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mosso—direction indicating movement, motion; agitated.


	53. Da Capo

53—Da Capo  


“It's hard to explain.”—The Strokes  


(Severus)  


Severus mindlessly unbuttoned his collar and wiped at the back of his neck. The underside of his hair was still damp from the tub, but he was too absorbed in the drama to bother charming it dry.  


The door had been left open a crack, and peering through the gap, Severus watched the reunion unfold. Hermione sat on the sofa, holding hands with Draco, while Potter and Weasley, who both looked painfully uncomfortable, had taken the settee across from them.  


Even though Severus knew in his gut she needed to face this challenge head on, the pragmatic devil on his shoulder felt the timing lacked forethought. Confrontations of such importance required a clear head—and bath time had _not_ been the recuperative soak he’d intended. As soon as Lucius had started to wash her back, she’d burst into tears, which had, quite understandably, rattled poor Lucius.   


They’d managed to wash away the visible signs of stress by giving her massive mane a thorough shampooing, but a scalp massage couldn’t heal a witch’s emotional wounds. All that simmering hurt and instability hadn’t been eradicated—it had merely been taken off the boil—and Severus worried that if things got too heated with her friends, the added pressure would crack her remaining fortitude and leave her broken. No one possessed an unlimited supply of resilience.

But even with all that concern for Hermione gnawing at his stomach, he couldn’t help but be impressed by Draco’s gambit. Going to such lengths, using all his resourcefulness, getting what he wanted. It did Snape’s Slytherin soul proud to see his godson exemplifying the best of their house. And it must have taken considerable cunning to convince an angry Boy Wonder and his apoplectic sidekick to come to Malfoy Manor for a chat. Perhaps silver tongues and unicorn sparkle were a hereditary trait.  


And Draco's plan wasn’t without merit. This get-together could be precisely what Hermione needed. She thrived on friends and fellowship, love and understanding. And no matter how much he hated it, these morons were her family. She needed them. But how would she ever explain the situation in way anyone else could understand? It was inexplicable to him, and he was a part of the infernal thing.  


Hermione did have a knack for debate though. Or maybe not so much debate as wearing another person down with unrelenting passion and conviction. How many times had he conceded an argument simply because he got caught up in her excitement?  


Did she have that same sway with her friends? Did they find her determination as contagious as he did?  


For her sake, he prayed the answer was yes.  


To give her a fighting chance at reconciliation, Lucius and Severus had decided to lie low. Lucius claimed he had some work to attend to in his office, but Severus couldn’t resist the lure of espionage.  


Turning his head, he placed his ear to the door’s aperture. She’d been recounting their romantic evolution—minus the juicier tidbits—for the past fifteen minutes, but she’d reached that day’s catastrophic climax, and Severus knew there would be some harsh reactions from the boys when she finally finished.  


“I don’t know what else to say,” Hermione told them. “I promise you both I’m completely safe. And, honestly, I feel better than I have in years. We work really well together, and they're all taking care of me.”  


“Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape are taking care of you?” Ron said in a sarcastic monotone. “That’s pretty fucking unbelievable, Hermione.”  


Severus noticed Weasley hadn’t included Draco in that disbelief.  


“I know it is,” she said. “I was surprised at first too. But they’re both quite different now. Well . . . Lucius is different, Severus is sort of the same, but . . . he’s different with me.”  


“What do you mean ‘he’s different with you’?” Potter asked in a low voice.  


Severus leaned in, rather curious about the answer himself.  


“He’s still, you know, _Snape_ , but . . . he’s thoughtful, and he really understands me. We can talk about anything.”  


“Can’t you just be friends with him?” Ron whinged.  


“We _are_ friends. But I’m attracted to him physically as well.”  


“Snape?” Ron repeated, as if she’d become confused about the subject of their conversation.  


“Yes, Snape,” she said, and he could hear her smiling. “I know he seems cold to everyone else, but he’s not like that with me.”  


“I can accept that Snape isn’t evil,” Potter told her. “I testified before the Wizengamot on his behalf, and I'm grateful for everything he did for me; but it’s hard to believe he’s a good man for you, Hermione. Don’t you want someone who, I don’t know, has an _ounce_ of warmth?”  


“He is warm,” she countered. “Not with everyone, but he is with me.”  


“What about Lucius?” Ron groused. “You know, the man who tried to kill us? The man who put Riddle’s diary in Ginny’s books. The man who fought against us in in the final battle.”  


“He didn’t,” Draco cut in. “About the battle I mean. He didn’t fight at all. He and my mother were both just trying to find me.”  


“He hasn’t been the same since Azkaban,” Hermione said gently, “and when Narcissa died . . . he changed even more. He’s not the same man we fought in the Ministry.”  


Harry’s voice dropped, but Severus could just make out the words. “Even if he is different, how can you forget what he did to us?”  


Silence followed. He imagined the wheels in her head spinning, searching for the right reply.  


“I haven’t forgotten,” she answered, practically whispering. “I’m not defending his past. What he did was reprehensible. But, as someone who’s made a lot of her own mistakes, I can forgive him his. I forgave him long before I became involved with him. I don’t want to spend my whole life at the mercy of anger and grudges. There’s no freedom in that.”  


Weasley huffed in exasperation. “I think you might be taking that forgiveness overboard, 'Mione!”  


"I didn’t go looking for any of this,” Hermione went on, totally calm, as if at peace with the perplexity of the situation. “And in the beginning, I can't say I was any less confused than you are now. I kept waiting for someone to do or say something offensive, but in all this time, no one’s said a single thing to hurt me. Not one thing. Not even when they’re tired or pissed off about something else—they never take it out on me. All three of them always treat me like a queen.”  


Snape smiled, pleased to have his efforts recognized even if he wasn’t in the room.  


“Can you say the same?” she asked them. “Have either of you ever snapped at your wife after a long day? Do you always put aside your own problems to make sure they’re as happy as possible?”  


There was no answer from either boy, and a contemplative stillness filled the room.  


“How’s it going?” Lucius whispered in his other ear.  


Snape raised his hand and tipped it back and forth in a vacillating waver. _Not terrible. Could be better._  


Lucius bent down to listen next to him.  


“I didn’t jump into this on a whim; I gave it a lot of thought,” Hermione continued. “And the thought of losing _any_ of them was unbearable. They each bring something to my life that . . . I don't know . . . makes me feel whole.”  


Draco’s calm murmur could barely be heard from out in hall, “You should tell them about your eyes, love.”  


“What about your eyes?” Ron demanded, a hint of Molly’s fretting tone creeping into the question.  


“I . . . m-my eyes,” she stuttered and then stopped. After clearing her throat, she tried again. “Recently, I developed a new ability.”  


“A new ability,” Harry echoed. “What do you mean?”  


“I can sort of see auras now.”  


“Auras? Like, in different colors?”  


“Mm-hm.”  


“I don’t get it,” Ron said. “What’s that got to do with all this?”  


“Well, it was sort of brought on by our . . . _being together_.”  


“How do you know?” Harry asked.  


“I went to a mediwitch, and she did some tests to confirm it—even though it was pretty obvious what had caused it.”  


“Are you saying that you developed an extra-sensory power after . . . _sleeping_ with them?” Potter sounded both revolted and stunned.  


“Yes. And the more I thought about it, the more I thought that that sounded like a good sign they were the right match for me.”  


Another awkward silence ensued. Severus and Lucius both pressed forward, listening for any small sounds.  


“Sooooo,” Potter said slowly, “you mean for this to be longterm. You really want to stay with them.”  


“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”  


“You seriously love them,” Weasley muttered, his voice hollow with disbelief. “All of them. This is insane, Hermione. How are you gonna explain this to people?”  


"I don't know. I guess I’ll have to find a way to tell our friends, but I don’t really think it’s anybody else’s business. I’m not ashamed that I love them, but I don’t think the world needs to know my private affairs.”  


Lucius stood up straight, staring blankly at the door. “Did she just tell them she loves us?”  


Snape nodded. Had she not told him yet? It didn’t seem like it. Lucius looked as though someone had just hit him over the head with a skillet.  


“What’re you going to do about work?” Potter asked. “Sooner or later everyone’s gonna find out you four are living together. How will you deal with the public outcry?”  


“And they don’t know you like we do,” Ron added. “If you think we’re being hard on you, wait’ll the papers get ahold of this.”  


Hermione heaved out a long sigh, and when she spoke, her words quivered, on the brink of tears, “I don’t know yet.”  


Snape’s hand flexed against the wall, aching to comfort her. But something in him knew that what he _wanted_ and what she _needed_ were two different things. He had to stay put.  


“Even if I find some sort of civil rights organization to work for, they’re not going to want to deal with my celebrity status if the public hates me. That’s just bad press for them.”  


Without warning, Lucius threw open the door and burst in on their confab. Severus spun out of sight and listened intently as Malfoy strode across the room.  


“I might have a solution for you,” Lucius announced, not bothering to hide the fact he'd been eavesdropping. “We’ll simply bypass the middleman.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Da Capo—From the beginning
> 
> “It’s Hard to Explain” by The Strokes. The Strokes first single, written by Julien Casablancas (the lead singer) and released in 2001.  
> [ https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=BXkm6h6uq0k](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=BXkm6h6uq0k)


	54. Forte

54—Forte  


“I want to thank you.”—Natalie Merchant  


(Lucius)   


Potter and Weasley both reached for their wands as Lucius approached, their expressions clouding over with suspicion, but Hermione’s face lit up like the sun, a glint of pleasure sparkling in her brown eyes.  


Lucius chose to disregard his guests’ defensive posturing, but just to highlight their rudeness, he bowed to them in greeting, his manners overly polite. “Pardon me for eavesdropping, but it seemed like the appropriate time to interject.”  


Snickering at his effusive welcome, Hermione shook her head. “Did you say something about a middleman?”  


“I did indeed. But where to begin . . .?” He smiled slyly, already knowing exactly where to begin. “Do you recall the day we went out and, while shopping, you spurned my attempt to present you with a token of my affection?” He popped one eyebrow in a suggestive arch, making it clear which gift he meant.  


Hermione bobbed her head in a laughing nod. “I do.”   


“After I recovered from your stern and rather harrowing rebuke, I spent some time thinking about what you’d said, about what things are important to you—which inevitably led to a mental inventory of your most enthusiastic endeavors. And that gave me an idea. Since you were so adamant about me not spending my money _on you_ , I made some inquiries at Gringotts last week and, once I’d convinced them I hadn’t lost my mind, they agreed to help me set up a charity in your name.”  


Her eyes widened ever so slightly.  


“I had intended to wait until the paperwork was finalized before telling you; but now that your days are free, I thought, perhaps, you could run the charity yourself. If you’d rather not, I mean, if you have another job you’d prefer, I can hire a trustee to oversee the fund’s distribution—all at your behest, of course.”  


Potter and Weasley turned to each other, undisguised astonishment reflected in their bulging eyes. Even Draco appeared visibly floored.  


Hermione was the only one who didn’t react. Her face hadn't moved a millimeter, and he wondered if she’d gone into shock.   


But then her mouth opened a fraction of an inch, and in a breathless whisper, she confirmed her coherence with one question, “My own charity?”  


Reverently, he nodded to her authority. “All your own.”  


“I can help anyone I please? No restrictions?”  


“It’s all entirely at your discretion. I know you’re capable of finding the most worthy candidates.”  


Hermione stared at him a few seconds longer, her gaze fixed and lifeless, and then quite unexpectedly, she burst into tears. Slapping both hands over her face, she hid the downpour, but the sobbing proved too loud to conceal. Lucius and Draco both went for her at the same time—Draco bundling her in a protective hug while Lucius dropped to one knee, his hands running over hers, stroking her face and fingers.  


“It’s all right,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”  


Hermione threw her arms around his neck, almost knocking him to the ground. “Thank you, Lucius,” she choked out. “This is so much better than any stupid necklace or clothes.”  


Draco smiled at him over her head, and for the first time in a long time, Lucius thought he saw pride in his son’s eyes. Pride in his father. He’d forgotten that look—and what it felt like to be the cause of it. His heart expanded several centimeters, just enough for him to fit that feeling inside so he didn’t forget again.   


“This _is_ cutting out the middleman,” Hermione blubbered into his shoulder. “I have so many ideas. When can I start?”  


“How about next Monday? We’ll go in and sign the papers over the weekend. You can start planning in the meantime. I know how much you enjoy the organizational phase.”  


“Is there enough money to hire someone to help me?”  


“Did you have someone in mind?”  


“Florence from work?”  


“Yes, of course; that sounds fine.”  


“How much money is it, Lucius? How many creatures can I help?”  


He didn’t want to scare her with the number, and he didn’t want Potter and Weasley to hear how much he had to spare. “Let’s just say I invested the money you wouldn't let me spend on you, and it did _extremely_ well. I don’t think you’re going to want for funds. Ever.”  


“Oh gods, this means so much to me, Lucius. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”  


"You're welcome, love.” He couldn’t resist kissing her tangled head. “Are you feeling better now?”  


“Yes. Very much. I can’t believe you did all this for me.” And with that, her weeping resumed, but at a much lighter pace.  


“Well, I say this calls for a celebration,” Draco proclaimed. “Join us in a toast, you two?”  


When no reply was forthcoming, Lucius looked over his shoulder to see what had happened to their guests, only to find the boys staring at him, doing their best large-mouth bass impersonations. Smirking at their horrified confusion, he gave Draco a nod, and his son bounded off toward the drinks cabinet.  


Lucius took Draco’s vacated seat and pulled Hermione to his chest. Cradling her close, he breathed in deeply so the aroma of honey and vanilla suffused his senses in her warmth. Massaging the nape of her neck, right at her scalp, he took her back to the memory of their bath, and just as he’d hoped, she relaxed against him.  


_That’s it, love. I’ve got you. Everything’s all right now._   


Actually, it was more than all right. It was transcendent. And possibly vital. Something about imparting that gift felt imperative to his wellbeing, as if his body had been programmed to find fulfillment in benefaction. It made him wonder if Hermione had been right about him. Was he really a generous man beneath all the avarice and pretension?  


Or had she made the act of giving irresistible?  


Where once he would have laughed at the thought of wasting money on a charity, now he felt only relief and contentment. As if it were Christmas and he’d found the most perfect gift for the most perfect witch.  


Except Hermione was the gift. So instead of the hollow dread that usually accompanied the loss of a large sum, Lucius felt richer than he ever had in his entire life.  


Kissing her springy crown, he silently thanked her for keeping him on her payroll.  


Hermione turned her head toward the boys and patted his chest. “See what I mean? Different.”  


Ron’s eyebrows shot up, and the muscles around Harry’s mouth jumped with suppressed amusement.  


Potter pushed his fingers under his glasses to rub his eyes, but then he nodded as if he were coming to terms with what he’d just witnessed. “I’m not entirely convinced, but I’m certainly not going to rain on your parade.”  


Hermione beamed, her wet face blossoming with hope. “I’m not asking you to love him too; I was just aiming for resigned acknowledgment.”  


Harry adjusted his glasses and peered at her with a slight squint. “One pleasant visit isn’t enough to convince me of anything. But people _can_ change, and I seriously doubt you’d stay with a man who mistreated you, so . . . for the time being . . . I can _grudgingly_ accept it.”  


Ron scrubbed his face with both palms. “This is really disturbing to see in person, but I’m with Harry—I don’t like your choice in men, but I still love _yo_ _u_. We just want you to be safe.”  


Hermione exploded in a fresh wave of tears and staggered off the couch, running at them like a wailing banshee. Worry flashed across their faces, but their concern quickly turned to horror when she flung herself at them, her arms tight around their necks.  


They both patted her arms in a gesture of friendship and reassurance—then patted harder so she’d let them breathe.  


“Okay, Hermione,” Ron rasped. “You’re choking me!”  


She held on a second longer, kissing them both on the cheek before letting go and rising to her feet. “I really don’t care what anyone else thinks, but you two are my best friends. I want you to at least _like_ the men I love.”  


Harry rubbed at the pink mark ringing his throat. “We’ll see about that; I don’t think I’m ready for _like_ just yet. But . . . how about if I come out in favor of your new charity. With the ‘Chosen One’ endorsing it, it's bound to be a success. Maybe you can even get some volunteers or something.”  


Hermione wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’d really do that?”  


“‘Course I would.”  


“Me too, ‘Mione,” Ron said, stretching his neck to the side and gingerly touching it as if searching for a flesh wound. “We’ll hit ‘em with the whole set. All that Golden Trio malarky’s gotta be good for something. The reporters’ll eat this up. Celebrities and charities make for great press. Please tell me you’re not going to call this one SPEW or anything though. I can’t let you do that to yourself again.”  


She laughed and shook her head. “No. I’ll have to think of something a bit more inclusive—maybe not so unintentionally vomity.”  


Draco draped his arm around her, a glass of champagne in his hand. “How about Draco’s Do-gooder? Catchy, huh?”  


She snorted and affectionately clasped his hand as she took the glass. “How about something less Draco-centric?”  


“The Munificent Malfoy Fund?”  


Grinning, Hermione rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Nice try.”  


“I’ve just been calling it the Hermione Granger Fund,” Lucius told her. “But The HG Foundation would sound nice.”  


As they brainstormed possible names, Draco passed around the rest of the champagne, and with the change in mood, Hermione’s tears began to dry.  


Taking his place at her side, Lucius offered his silent support, and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Gently, he tugged on her hair, and when she smiled up at him, he lowered his mouth for a quick kiss. But instead of meeting his lips, she grabbed him by the shirtfront and tucked her face into his neck.  


“I love you, Lucius,” she whispered, her warm breath sending a prickly line of gooseflesh down his spine. “So so so much. And don’t you dare think I’m saying that because you just gave me a truckload of Galleons. I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you—when we were alone—but I just can’t hold it in any more. Please don’t worry about saying it back. We’ll deal with all that later. I just need you to know my heart’s about to explode with how much I love you right now.” Her voice broke. “And how much I loved you yesterday. And how much I’ll love you tomorrow. And every day after that.”  


She kissed the corner of his mouth and let him go, her eyes wet, but her smile radiant.  


Malfoy’s heart zipped through his chest as his stomach rolled left and right, a rock tumbler of butterflies raging in his belly, which left him feeling both giddy and airsick—the same way he used to feel with Narcissa. Gods, how he’d missed that rush! The rush of being loved by a woman, of being exactly what she needed.   


Of being hers.  


"I wish Severus were here," she said. “I feel wrong when one of you is missing. Is he down in his lab?”  


Snape slinked around the corner like a cat burglar’s shadow. “No, I’m right here.”  


Hermione’s eyes sparked with joy. “Come get a glass and drink with us. Have you heard the good news?”  


“I have,” Severus said smoothly.  


Draco handed him a glass and tapped it with his own. “To Hermione’s new venture—Draco Malfoy Humanities Incorporated.”  


Hermione pinched him in playful exasperation. “NO.”  


“Fine, fine.” Draco said with a nod of deference. Smiling, he met her eye and raised his glass, but when he spoke, his voice was soft and serious, “To generous partners and the most kind-hearted witch I know, Phoenix Fire Charities, where every creature is spoken for.”  


Stunned, they all stared at him in shock.  


“What, too wordy?” he quipped.  


“Not at all,” Hermione said. “I quite liked it. Where’d you come up with that?”  


“My incredible brain.”  


“I like it too,” Harry said, ignoring Draco’s alleged brain. “That’s the best one so far.”  


“I’ll toast to that.” Hermione raised her glass. “To Phoenix Fire Charities.”  


They all clinked glasses and echoed the toast, “To Phoenix Fire Charities.”  


Harry and Ron hesitated before imbibing, eyeing the pink liquid as if it might be poison. When everyone else drank and suffered no ill effects, they both shrugged and downed the contents with a grimace of trepidation.  


Lucius rolled his eyes. As if he’d poison a perfectly good bottle of Van Pétillant.  


_Les_ _philistins_ _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forte—loud; strong
> 
> “Kind and Generous” by Natalie Merchant. Written by Natalie Merchant and released in 1998.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=LR6PV-Irv7s>
> 
> BTW, Lucius is calling the boys philistines at the end there :)


	55. Sextet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Whoohoo! So here’s the last chapter of this group (and it’s a little lemony at the end). The next chapter will get released by itself. I have absolutely no idea how long it’ll take me. It needs some rewriting, but it’s not a long chapter. Happy reading!

55—Sextet

“Kisses of fire, sweet devotions; caught in a landslide of emotions. I've had my share of love affairs, and they were nothing compared to this. Oh, I'm riding higher than the sky, and there is fire in every kiss.”—ABBA

(Draco) 

Draco watched Hermione’s lips touch the rim of her glass, mesmerized by the pucker of her mouth. His own lips, desirous of her kiss, opened as if meeting hers, but when he realized what he was doing, and who might see, he hid the social slip by pretending to drink.

He’d kiss Hermione later, when Harry and Ron had gone. Surely she’d need some snogging therapy to fully recover.

Or maybe _he_ was the one in need of that particular prescription.

Although her smile had chased away the majority of his anxiety, he wouldn’t feel completely at ease until they were joined at the lips and hips. Being inside her wasn’t a requirement, but he needed the pressure of her body against his—all that passion melting his fears to an insignificant puddle.

That was the Hermione who ruled his heart. His blazing goddess of love.

The Ministry might have thought they could snuff out her power and desire with their downsizing, but Draco knew his phoenix queen would rise from the ashes and begin her life anew. The spark was still there; he’d seen it in her eyes. The anger. The determination. She just needed a puff of oxygen and a little kindling to latch onto.

Draco didn’t know which ingredient he was in that scenario, but specifics weren’t all that important. What mattered was that he’d helped her. And bringing out that smile felt like the most important job in the world. Gone was the woe that had weighted the manor’s atmosphere with doom and gloom. Hermione had her light back, and they were all basking in her radiance. 

Or at least Draco was. 

And his father. Sweet Salazar, Lucius looked positively stoned. He’d never seen the old man so overjoyed about spending money.

Snape's mood was less clear. The present company seemed to have curtailed any burgeoning effusiveness that might have clarified his state of mind. The “Potions master” had returned, and Draco couldn’t help noticing the way Snape’s cheek twitched whenever he looked at Harry, as if he were fighting the urge to sneer. Just like the old days.

Draco didn’t totally understand what was going on between them. Snape despised Potter—yet he’d risked his life to save him? It didn’t make sense. While Severus did have a knack for contradiction and not playing by the rules, his ongoing hostility toward Harry struck Draco as strangely illogical. Which made even less sense, because if there was one thing Severus loved, it was logic.

Draco had to assume the friction had something to do with Potter’s mum. During the final battle, Harry had made it exceedingly clear to the Dark Lord that Snape’s loyalties lay with Lily—a truth bomb that had shattered everyone’s preconceptions about the saturnine man. Including Draco’s.

But he could see how losing the witch one loved might turn a man into a miserable bastard—especially if the man in question wasn’t all that nice to begin with. Love could drive any wizard mad.

But if Severus loved the witch, why did he hate her son? Was it some kind of survivor’s guilt? Did he blame Harry for Lily’s death? Did he blame Harry for his own death? Did he hate feeling obligated to save him?

Draco turned his eyes to Severus, searching for a glimpse of the man he’d come to know in the past couple of months, the one who smiled and sometimes even cracked a joke. But if that man was in there, “Professor Snape” had him well hidden. His eyes had gone hard as obsidian, and the wariness that radiated from his rigid body set Draco’s teeth on edge. Even Severus seemed uncomfortable with his irritability. He kept shifting about so Hermione buffered him from the group, as if he didn’t trust himself not to attack their visitors.

Hermione had to crane her head back and to the side just to see him. “Am I allowed to tell everyone what you’ve been working on in the lab?”

Draco perked up. Snape never talked about his experiments, and Draco was dying of curiosity.

Severus dipped his head in a stunted nod. “I suppose.”

Beaming at Harry and Ron, Hermione spilled Snape’s secrets in a breathless outpouring of delight, “Most recently Severus has been working on a salve to heal the traumatic scarring caused by dragon pox.”

Lucius spluttered, “You have?” through a mouthful of champagne. Obviously decades of fucking didn’t automatically make him privy to Snape’s activities.

When Severus didn’t respond, Hermione answered for him, “They’ve been using it at St. Mungo’s to great success.”

“Really?” Ron asked, looking a bit puzzled, as if the idea of Snape doing anything philanthropic was too bizarre to wrap his head around.

“And that’s not all,” Hermione went on. “He’s been doing some fascinating experiments with Tentacula venom, and he’s hoping to come up with a more powerful cure for dragon pox.” 

Draco choked on his drink. “Really?” he wheezed, sounding even more gormless than Weasley. “How’s it going?”

“It’s not going anywhere,” Snape muttered. “It’s a complete disaster.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Hermione assured him.

“Can it kill the super-strains?” Draco asked. The implications were staggering. 

 “Yes,” Severus replied. “Unfortunately it kills all the healthy cells as well, which rather defeats the purpose.”

Draco wondered what had inspired Severus to travel such a perilous road. Was it an ode to Narcissa? Did he miss her? Too consumed by his own despair, Draco had never pondered the possible grief of a longterm lover. He’d never even asked Severus how the loss had affected him.

“When he figures it out,” Hermione went on, her confidence unshakable, “the impact will felt the world over. Children and the elderly are hit the hardest, but even adults can find themselves overwhelmed by the virus if their immune systems have been compromised. Over the course of a lifetime, a cure could save millions of families untold suffering.”

Weaving her glass-filled hand through the crook of Lucius’s arm, she pulled him closer and then twined her fingers around Draco’s, making it clear whom she meant by suffering families. Severus stayed perfectly still as she tipped back her head and leaned into him, her grin deliriously proud.

"Okay," Ron growled. “That’s it! I believe you, all right? They’re different. Just please stop groping them in front of us. We get it—you’re in love. We don’t need to see how much.”

Erupting in bright laughter, Hermione shook her head. “Don’t be silly; I’m not groping anyone.” 

She nonchalantly let go of Draco and slipped her hand behind her back. From the of the corner of his his eye, he saw her cup Snape’s crotch, hiding her actions with the bulk of her body. 

“Trust me, I know groping, and handholding isn’t it. I just like to constantly remind them all how much I care about them.”

Snape continued to sip his champagne. He never even flinched.

If she'd done that to Draco, he would have been out of his trousers and humping her hand like a horny Kneazle. Which was probably why she’d done it to the one man who could play it cool through anything.

Harry gestured toward the clock on the mantel. “It’s getting late. I should head home; Ginny’ll be dying to know what’s happened.”

“Is she upset with me too?” Hermione asked quietly.

Scrunching up his face, Harry shook his head. “Not at all. For weeks now she’s been insisting you’d gotten yourself a new boyfriend, but I told her she was just mental from lack of sleep. Now I’ve got to go home to her gloating smile and impromptu victory dances. Thank you _soooo_ much for that.” He flashed her a fondly disapproving smile.

Hermione grinned. “I doubt she guessed the correct number of boyfriends. Don’t let her dance too much.”

Chuckling, Harry nodded agreeably. “Come over this weekend. I’ll try to tell her what I can, but I have a feeling my brain is going to block out most of what I’ve seen here today.”

Hermione patted Snape's placket and smoothly returned her hand to her side—no one the wiser. “I’ll be over. And, not that I’m ashamed or anything, but maybe you shouldn’t tell any of our other friends about this yet. I don’t know if I’m ready to explain myself to the world.”

“Can I tell Janet?” Ron asked. “She’s gonna want to know what happened after all the hoopla at the house.”

“What hoopla?”

“Draco,” Ron explained.

“There was no hoopla,” Draco countered. “Hoopla would have upset the baby.”

Her eyes snapped to his, and she gave him a funny look before turning back to Ron. “Of course you can tell Janet. I just don’t want anything to go wrong with the charity.”

Leaning in, Harry kissed Hermione’s cheek. “We’ll keep it under wraps. I’ll see you this weekend—come over for lunch on Sunday. And for Merlin’s sake, we’re asking everyone to stop bringing James stuffed animals when they visit. We can barely spot him amongst the menagerie anymore.”

“What about books?” she asked in a panic.

“Yeah,” Harry laughed, “books are fine. But you do know he’s not even two months old, right? No more Chaucer for Children. Let’s stick with picture books for now.”

“The Canterbury Tales I gave him has etchings.”

Harry smiled and nodded as if she were charmingly unhinged. “He’s in more of a duckie and bunny kind of place at the moment.”

Bursting into a guffaw, Hermione threw her arms around him in a bear hug. “I’ll find something. Bye, you guys.” She kissed Ron’s cheek and took his glass. “Tell George I said hi.”

Ron touched his forehead in a half-arsed salute. “Will do.”

“I'll show you out.”

Hermione escorted them toward the entrance hall, chattering away about baby books and what she was going to bring when she came over.

Without her, the room felt too quiet, and it took the three of them several seconds to decide what to do with themselves. Severus drifted over to the sofa, and Draco followed him, wondering if he was safe to talk to now that Harry and Ron had gone. Sitting to his left, Draco casually crossed his leg so his foot rested an inch from Snape’s calf—and then waited to see if he’d pull away. 

He didn’t.

He didn’t really move at all.

Draco wasn’t sure how to interpret that. “So were you ever going to tell us about the dragon pox cure?” he asked carefully.

Snape’s black eyes flickered over to him. “There was nothing to tell.”

“What made you want to take on such a complex problem?”

Snape glanced at Lucius, who was across the room pouring himself another glass of champagne. “You already know the answer to that.”

Actually, Draco wasn’t sure if Snape was doing it out of love for Narcissa or Lucius. Or both. “You’re a bit late. It can’t help her now.”

Severus nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the floor. “And I don’t want it to happen again.” His face closed, and there was a hardness there that hadn’t been seen since the war. “My life has been filled with nothing but death and destruction. But a cure—that’s something wholly different. It’s . . . creation.” His hand flexed around his glass. “It’s something to aspire to. Something pure and untainted.” He turned and looked into Draco’s eyes. “Have you ever thought about how you’ll be remembered after you die?”

Draco nodded. That very question had been the cause of many sleepless nights.

Severus knowingly inclined his head. “If I’m remembered as a hero in a war I wanted no part of, if I’m remembered for killing and dying and acting as a double-agent, my life will have amounted to nothing more than mistakes and deception made virtuous by a sense of sentimental duty. I am not the hero of that tale. What I did, I did because it needed to be done.” Severus paused, and his eyes dropped to his boots. “But now I have the chance to be remembered for something of my choosing—something so good it could rewrite history.” Sighing deeply, he flicked his thumbnail against the edge of his glass. “And if it’s my history I plan to rewrite, I can’t shy away from complex problems.”

Draco understood. In fact, he understood all too well. It was one of the reasons he’d applied for a job at the Ministry. He didn’t want the name Malfoy to be associated with nothing but bigotry and violence; that wasn’t the legacy he intended to leave behind.

He’d experienced some fulfillment with his work, helping to bridge the divide between magical governments, but it wasn’t until Hermione had moved in that he’d felt truly successful. He could see himself devoting his life to her, and in doing so, bringing about real change through her unstoppable caring and kindness. “I know what you mean.” He gave Snape a cautious smile. “Hermione’s not tainted. She can be our good thing.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “She has been tainted. By _us_. Her life will never be the same.”

Bloody hell. Snape had way of making reality seem even harsher than advertised. Draco slugged back the rest of his drink and set his glass on the end table. “True, but change isn’t always bad. You never know, we _could_ make her life better.”

Severus’s frown was doubtful. “Perhaps.”

Hermione pranced back in, clapping her hands in an excited flutter of applause, raising the mood of the room from dreary to cheery with nothing more than her giddy excitement. “Well, that went well. I think we talked them down from ‘revolted’ to ‘squeamish.’”

“You’re a very convincing witch,” Lucius purred.

Hermione ran over to him and practically leapt into his arms for another kiss. Lucius caught her, only staggering back a step before finding his balance. When they came up for air, his father had the dopiest smile plastered across his face and his voice had taken on an intoxicated slur, “But perhaps I’m biased.”

Snorting, Hermione rested her head on his chest. “Don’t sell yourself short. You three put on a pretty good show.”

“Are you feeling better now, princess? I don’t like seeing you so sad.”

“I feel better now that I know Harry and Ron aren’t mad at me. And I’m really excited about the charity. I’ll have to thank you for that _profusely_ tonight. What would you like, pearls and buggery?”

“No, love. I don’t want to cheapen the gift by having you pay for it with sex. That wasn’t why I did it.”

Hermione beamed up at him like a loon. “I know why you did it.”

“Do you?” His brow rose imperiously, but his eyes danced with mirth.

“Mm-hm. You did it for the same reason Severus makes me dinner and gives me baths. And for the same reason Draco hugs me and brings me wildflowers.”

“Because you’re a hungry, dirty, irresistible witch with a penchant for sniffing things?”

She grinned ruefully and pinched his nipple through his shirt. “You know very well what I mean.”

Draco’s stomach rolled into a tight ball and plowed into his gut. Buttering up Lucius in the hopes of squeezing out a drop of love was a waste of time. The man had the emotional capacity of a thimble. Granted, Draco had been impressed by that charity deal—but money wasn’t love.

Spreading his legs, Draco patted his knee and gave her his most disarming smile. “Why don’t you come over here and sit in my lap. I’ll tell you what you want to hear.”

When she saw his suggestive position, Hermione burst into riotous giggles. After pecking Lucius’s neck in a parting kiss, she slinked over and playfully nudged Draco’s thigh with her knee. “Why don’t you take off your trousers and show me how you really feel.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

"Hold on a second," Severus growled. “There will be no playing until you’ve apologized for molesting me in front of our guests.”

“You didn’t enjoy my public display of affection?” she asked coyly.

“That’s hardly the point. Cock grabbing is not something we do in front of company.”

“I wasn’t grabbing; I was _caressing_.”

“Semantics aren’t going to save you, Miss Granger. But since you’re so eager to go ‘public,’ why don’t you take down your shorts and knickers so everyone has a clear view of your bottom while you’re over my knee.”

“Are you serious? Right here? Now?”

“I am quite serious, little girl. I don’t want to add to your stressful day, so I’ll keep it brief; but you _are_ getting a spanking. Why don’t you put your head in Draco’s lap so he can help keep you calm.”

Lucius slithered up behind her and ran one hand down her hip. “Do you need assistance?”

Although she looked a bit apprehensive about the spanking, her pupils blew wide, and she rolled her bum against his groin. "Yes, sir."

Smirking, Lucius slid both hands around to her flies and palmed the front of her shorts. Running his ring finger along the seam bisecting her sex, he pressed its stiff stitching into her slit as he teased down her zip. When both sides had been peeled open like unfurled leaves, he curled his fingers along her flanks and tugged her shorts over her hips.

Draco hardened at the sight of her—completely bare from the waist down. “No, knickers tonight, love?”

“I was in a hurry,” she panted, her eyes already half-lidded. “You told me to throw on some clothes and get downstairs before Harry and Ron changed their minds. Knickers weren’t a pressing concern.”

Lucius knelt down and helped her out of her clothes, absently tossing the discarded layer aside when she stepped out. “Well, I think you look lovely just the way you are.” With a chaste kiss to her left buttock, he patted her bum and urged her toward Snape.

"I agree,” Severus drawled. “But I think you'll look even lovelier with a red backside. What do you say to me?"

Her eyes darted between the three of them, and she swallowed hard, her face warming to a pretty pink. "I'm sorry for touching you in front of Harry and Ron."

"That was a good apology, but what do you say when you need a spanking?"

The pink flared to red. "Please spank my naughty bottom, sir."

Snape's thin lips curled in a devious smirk. "You're getting warmer."

Her eyes went wide, and she glanced at Draco and Lucius. "Out _loud_? With everyone here?"

"Draco and Lucius know perfectly well what we've been up to. They don't mind. Say it."

Hermione covered her face with both hands, but instead of crying as she had earlier, she heaved out a rough sigh and mumbled, "Pleasespankmynaughtybottom,Daddy."

Draco’s gaze shot to Lucius to gauge his reaction. His father appeared to be on the verge of laughter—not surprised in the least. And if the predatory slant of his posture was anything to go by, he found the dynamic markedly arousing. For a split second Draco was too shocked to think, but then his dick made its opinion painfully clear, and the matter was taken out of his hands. Naughty Little Hermione turned him on more than he could say. And Daddy Severus . . . that was all kinds of interesting.

"There’s my good girl.” Severus reached up and stroked her arm, which must have been some kind of signal. Without being asked, she gave him her hand, and he used it to guide her to his side. "All right, are you ready to show everyone how wet you can get for Daddy?"

Keeping one hand over her eyes, she nodded vigorously.

Snape eased her across his lap, and when she’d wiggled into place, stretched over him like a bare-bummed dream, he reached over and used his fingertips to gently push her face into Draco’s throbbing crotch. Not being able to see must have relaxed her somewhat, because the rigidness of her back softened to an alluring curve, and she melted into them. Draco couldn't resist those flowing lines. Raking his fingers along her spine, he swept aside her hair and grazed the back of her neck. Hermione's remaining tension faded with his touch, and she purred against his cock.

"All right," Severus said, pushing apart her thighs so one leg fell to the front and her pussy rested crookedly against his knee. "Are you ready, baby?"

“Yes, Daddy."

"Then hold Draco’s hand. I don't want you to be tempted to cover yourself."

Blindly, Hermione reached for him, and he caught her in midair, twining his fingers through hers.

Snape gave him a small smile and, raising his hand, whipped it across her backside with a loud smack. When she jumped, Draco squeezed her fingers, but she made no attempt to escape. 

And he could see why. Merlin's balls! Who'd want to escape a spanking like that? An extravagant groping followed every slow slap, Snape’s long fingers alternately squeezing and swiping the sting from her glowing rump, possibly brushing her swollen lips as he passed. 

It wasn’t a punishment. Not even close. This was Snape’s version of a meditative retreat. Hermione had been reduced to a mindless writhing body, all thoughts of the Ministry obliterated by his patient hand.

Draco didn’t know which he found more enthralling, Hermione’s bobbing, red arse, or Snape’s enraptured face. The man seemed to have gone into an altered state, her bum the focal point of his worship. 

It brought to mind what Hermione had said about Severus using sexual situations to express his feelings. The idea had startled Draco at first, but ever since then, he’d started to notice just how accurate that insight really was—how Severus couched his tenderness in arousal and sensation. Even now his black eyes roved the landscape of her body, observing, appreciating, analyzing every gasp and jump so the next hit provided exactly what she needed. 

It was an act of devotion.

A lurch of sudden comprehension rippled through Draco’s heart. Snape _really_ loved her. Just as much as Draco did. All that grumbling about impropriety had just been an excuse to get her over his knee and help her let go. It was all for her.

Draco’s softer side ached for the man’s emotional mutism—but his Slytherin side commiserated. A snake leaned to be judicious with the truth, especially when that truth involved his heart. But yet another side of him found Snape’s scheme brilliant. While Draco enjoyed proclaiming his love for Hermione whenever he pleased, he rather liked the idea of Severus sneaking his feelings into every slap and tickle.

When aware of the context, that hand job in the hot tub took on all new connotations. And the way Severus stroked his head at night—holy fuck! That was affection outside the realm of sex. Although . . . they were all naked in a bed together. Maybe Severus considered that borderline erotic. Even so, Draco felt he could safely put it in the cuddling column. And that made him smile. Snape cared about him. A lot. And the feeling was definitely mutual.

But confusing. All his past experiences with men had been strictly sexual, and Draco had always been the more dominant one. There was some part of him that didn’t trust his male partners, and that mistrust brought out his inner aggressor. He usually wound up pinning Blaise to the mattress and choking him to orgasm, growling the whole time about who was in charge. Blaise loved it, but once the adrenaline wore off and Draco’s cock deflated, his own feelings were mixed. He liked the raw power and animal dominance, but those things scared him as much as they thrilled him.

He didn’t like losing himself in aggression, which was part of the reason he hated arguing with his father. It made him feel out of control. 

But for some reason, _purposefully_ losing control to Hermione was something he craved. There was no fight there, just acceptance. Trust. He felt safe with her—even when she had him strung up in restraints or smothered in her pussy.

Strangely, Severus made him feel something similar, but Draco didn’t know how to deal with feeling that way about a man. It wasn’t something he had any experience with.

But he was open to seeing where it might go. It felt good when they touched—not combative at all. And that kiss had been phenomenal. Instead of working Draco to a frenzied attack, it had liquified his insides to pure desire. He’d never felt that way with any other wizard.

It begged the question what else could Severus make him feel?

What if the answer was love? Would that complicate things with Hermione? She clearly didn’t mind that his father and Snape shared their own intimate relationship. Would she mind if Draco became close to him too?

His heart said no, she’d bloody well encourage him to take it further, to care for Severus as much as he cared for her—and then prove how _much_ he cared with a naked demonstration. That sounded good. Except Draco didn’t know if he could ever love anyone as much as he loved Hermione. But when he thought about Severus loving _him_ , his heart skipped a beat.

That was a whole lot of love. If he had both Hermione and Severus coming at him with all they had, he might die of an affection overload.

But what a way to go.

“Please, Daddy. I need to come!”

Draco blinked, jangled from his wandering thoughts by Hermione’s shout.

Her grip had become vice-like, and she squirmed against Snape as if she wanted to climb him. Draco could tell by the trembling roll of her hips that she was right on the edge.

"But Lucius and Draco are enjoying the show, love. Are you sure you want to end it now?"

"I don’t think I can hold back!”

"That's because you've been riding Daddy's leg like it’s the pretty white pony upstairs."

 _We have a pony upstairs?_

"Do you think you've learned your lesson?"

"Yes, Daddy! Please!"

"Okay, baby. Go ahead. Get my trousers as wet as you can."

Moaning, Hermione ground her pussy into Snape's thigh, unabashedly humping him as he rained down a constant hail storm of sharp smacks. 

Draco snaked his free hand beneath her chest and caught the fleshy stub of her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Just as her body began to quake with release, he pinched hard, and she cried out, spilling a slurry of names into his lap. He thought he caught the hard D of a Draco and possibly both “sir” and “daddy” melded into one garbled wail. Whatever it was, it was sexy as hell. 

When her pussy had given all it could, Hermione slumped against them and groaned her thanks, the mumbled accolades skipping each time an aftershock wracked her limp body. 

Severus continued to rub her arse, but his lips pulled into a genuine smile—his first of the night. “See? You can be good girl when you put your mind to it. Just look how wet you’ve gotten my trousers. I like a witch who takes it upon herself to surpass my expectations. But you are rather messy now. Why don't you take Draco upstairs and give him that shower you suggested earlier. Would you like that?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Severus swiped his fingers along the cleft of her pussy and brought them to his mouth, sampling her juices like a chef tasting his newest culinary masterpiece. "Don't wash that pussy, baby girl. I like the way you taste."

"Yes, Daddy."

Draco started to help her up, but halfway to her feet, she drifted into a slight detour and curled into Snape for one last snog. 

Between mouthfuls, he heard her whisper, “Thank you for correcting me, Daddy,” and Draco had to bite his tongue to keep from moaning. Little Hermione was definitely a welcome addition to the house. Maybe he could schedule a play date with her and Severus so he could watch them in action. Or maybe even get _in_ on the action.

Her hand slid between Snape’s legs, and as she skimmed her palm over his bound erection, Draco’s fingers went to his own zip to match her movements, too turned on to separate their pleasure from his. 

Severus grunted and grabbed her wrist. "All right," he murmured, patting her arse. "I’ll still be here when you get out. Go on. And remember what we talked about before. Do unto others . . .”

Hermione nodded eagerly and scrambled out of Snape’s lap, her hand finding Draco’s once more. He didn't know what the hell “do unto others” meant, but he was ready to have just about anything done unto him after watching all that.

Before he could ask what was up, Hermione grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down into her face. Sealing her mouth to his, she hit him full blast with a flood of unrestrained love, and Draco almost dropped to his knees, overcome by the deluge of feelings. The day had been fraught with so much fear and relief and dread and joy, his head spun as it all crashed into him again, knocking him flat and then lifting him up, twisting and turning as wave after wave rolled him to a peak.

Hermione nipped his lower lip and whispered, “I love you, Draco. Thank you for bringing Harry and Ron back to me.”

Swallowing hard, Draco blinked a few times, the edges of his vision blurring as his cock withheld a dangerous amount of his blood supply. “You’re welcome.”

“Mmmmm, I think it’s time Nanny Granger showed you how she takes care of thoughtful little boys. We’ll make a game of it. If you last through two hundred kisses without coming, I’ll give you a special reward. And winner gets to pick the next game.”

Two hundred kisses! That sounded like . . . wait, why wouldn’t he be able to make it through two hundred kisses? Would his skin wear off? Or was she just setting him up for success?

Tugging on his hand, she pulled him toward the door, the smile on her face too gentle to arouse suspicion.

But just as they crossed the threshold and passed into the hall, she glanced back at him, and her eyes flared with gold-plated desire.

He knew that look. Nanny Granger planned to teach him something new. 

He’d be lucky if he lasted through two kisses let alone two hundred.

Losing had never sounded so sweet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sextet—A group of six people signing or playing music together.
> 
> “Kisses of Fire” by ABBA. Written by Benny Andersson, Björn Ulvaeus and released on their 1979 album Voulez-Vous.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=q2d69hh7hwE>
> 
> Many thanks to happiness8000 for mentioning this song early on in the comments! I knew I needed to use it; I just didn’t know which quote I’d have to replace. (Turns out I’d doubled up on Billy Joel lyrics without meaning to, and KoF was the perfect replacement.)


	56. Impromptu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, I’m getting neurotically obsessive about editing, so that means it’s time to post.  
> Next release will be a single chapter as well (and except for the epilogue I think it’s the last single chapter release for the rest of the story.) It is the shortest chapter of all (currently weighing in at 950 words), but the whole thing needs to be rewritten, so I have no idea how long it’ll take (or how long it will be once I’m finished with it). But I shall return as soon as it’s presentable :)

56—Impromptu  
  
“The boy is mine.”—Brandy & Monica  
  
(Lucius)  
  
Lucius took his usual seat at the kitchen table and riffled through that morning’s Daily Prophet, rapidly scanning each page before flipping to the next. There was supposed to be an article about Hermione's charity, and he wanted to read it before she came down for breakfast.  
  
She'd made great strides in only a month’s time—so either people didn't care that she was shacking up with the three of them, or they hadn't heard yet. Due to the lack of death threats, he was betting on the latter.  
  
Ah! There she was! Hermione’s radiant smile lit up the entire top half of the “Community News” section. Potter and Weasley flanked her on either side, and they each had an arm draped over her shoulders in a phalanx of joyous camaraderie.  
  
His eyes dropped to the article below:  
  
_The Golden Trio Gives Back_  
  
_Magical beings everywhere, rejoice! The Phoenix Fire Foundation is here to fight for you! Founded on the principles of magical equality and brotherhood, the Phoenix Fire Foundation is the first of its a kind: a charity devoted to the aid and representation of all magical creatures. Never before has a witch or wizard attempted to bridge this massive and often overlooked chasm between the species; but if there’s one witch who has proven she’s up to the challenge, it’s war hero, and outspoken champion of creature rights, Hermione Granger_  
  
_“I believe that everyone deserves to be heard. The truth needs to be told, and someone needs to stand up and say enough is enough. For too long non-humans have been dismissed, their problems swept under the rug like a dirty secret. I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen anymore. If you’re being treated unfairly, or if you’re in danger, please contact The Phoenix Fire offices in London. Your story matters.”_  
  
_Ms. Granger’s impassioned plea has already drawn hundreds of hopeful creatures. She sits down with each of them, one on one, and every creature we interviewed had the same awestruck reaction: “She really listens, and she really cares.”_  
  
_But it’s not just Hermione Granger making her voice heard. Her best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, are encouraging everyone to lend a hand. “This is a big job,” says Harry Potter, “and Hermione can’t do it all on her own. If you have the time or money, please get in touch. There are so many creatures who need our help.”_  
  
_The-boy-who-lived pleading for people-who-care. If you would like to show your support, please contact the offices and let them know how you can contribute._  
  
_“Even if you just knit or sew, we need things like blankets and sometimes clothes,” Ron Weasley added._  
  
_“Kindness has been pouring in,” Ms. Granger assured us, gesturing toward boxes of donated supplies. “But there’s always so much more to do. Please stand up for our magical brothers and sisters. Their liberation is our own liberation.”_  
  
_Ms. Granger is a powerful voice in the fight for magical equality, and she’s ready to take on her opponents. Her track record speaks for itself: fifty cases—all successfully resolved. And she says she’s just getting started._  
  
_“Every case I take on is personal to me. After everything we went through, everything we fought for, it pains me to see creatures still living in fear—all the while thinking they have nowhere to turn. That ends today. I’m here, and I’m on your side. And there are plenty of other people here at the Foundation who will stand with you. You are not alone.”_  
  
_If you would like to add your voice to Ms. Granger’s, she invites you to stop by the offices, which are located two blocks west of Diagon Alley, next to Tea for Two and across from Fezziwhig’s Animal Emporium. Business hours are from 8 A.M. to 7 P.M. Monday–Friday, but a 24-hour guard is on duty if any creature needs a safe place to stay at any time. “Day or night, we’re here for you,” Ms. Granger told us with a warm smile. “Our doors will always open to those in need.”_  
  
A giddy laugh bubbled in Lucius’s chest. Bloody hell, she had that reporter eating out of her hand!  
  
“How’s the article?” Snape asked as he set a stack of steaming crepes on the table and picked up the pitcher of pumpkin juice.  
  
“It's good. Very positive. She’ll love it.”  
  
“Thank Merlin,” he muttered, splashing some juice into his own glass before starting on Hermione’s. “She needs to relax.”  
  
“Well, I hardly think this is going to help her relax. She’s just going to work even harder to live up to the hype.”  
  
"I know,” Severus sighed. “But maybe this will bring in some new help and she won’t have to do everything herself.”  
  
Lucius snorted. “Hermione? Outsource her life’s work? I won’t hold my breath.”  
  
“Mm,” Severus grunted in agreement. “I’m going to have a talk with her this weekend. At the rate she's going, she’ll be completely burned out by the end of next month.”  
  
“By talk, do you mean tie her to the bed so she can’t work?”  
  
Snape looked up, the hint of a leer on his lips. “But of course.”  
  
“I get to watch.”  
  
“You’ll do more than watch. I think all three of us might have to gang up on her and have an intervention.”  
  
“Sounds therapeutic. I’ll bring the jewels.”  
  
“I’ll bring the paddle.”  
  
“What’s Draco going to bring?”  
  
Severus snickered. “Depends on his mood. The riding crop perhaps . . . or possibly a litter of kittens. You never know with him.”  
  
Lucius reached around the paper to blindly spear a crepe onto his plate. “Is it just my imagination, or has that boy become even more annoying lately?”  
  
Severus pursed his lips in a reproachful frown. “He just misses Hermione. I think he’s going through withdrawal.”  
  
“Have you been filling in for her?” Lucius asked nonchalantly. He'd seen the way Draco had been looking at Severus—and the looks Severus had for him in return.  
  
Snape took his usual seat across the table and shook out his napkin before spreading it over his lap. “Does that upset you?”  
  
Lucius bit his tongue. He found arguing with Severus distasteful under any circumstances, but without the proper levels of coffee in his system, picking a fight just sounded like an unnecessary headache. Hitching one shoulder in a weak shrug, he feigned indifference. “Are you fucking him?”  
  
“No!”  
  
“What? That’s too far? Sex I could at least understand; but you’ve actually been _kissing him goodnight_ , haven't you?”  
  
Snape’s gaze never wavered. “It helps him sleep.”  
  
Lucius rolled his eyes. “Please.”  
  
“All right, it helps _me_ sleep.”  
  
“I knew it,” Lucius crowed, his smirk triumphant. “Never thought I’d live to see the day. What the devil’s happened to you?”  
  
“Me? What about you?”  
  
“What about me?”  
  
"You've been letting Hermione handcuff you to the bed.”  
  
Malfoy looked down at his coffee, shocked he’d been found out. “She likes to tease me—it’s harmless fun. And I’m not handcuffed to the bed . . . just to my other wrist. Either way, I hardly think you’re in a place to comment, _daddy dearest_.”  
  
Severus peered at him, a smile breaking through his usual stoicism. “So, we’ve been living with her for a grand total of four months now . . . What do you think, are we already pussy-whipped?”  
  
Lucius couldn’t help laughing. “I certainly hope so.”  
  
Snape's low chuckle echoed around the room like velvet thunder. When it died to a soft sigh, he took a sip of coffee but studied Lucius over the rim of his cup. “You know,” he said slowly, “I could kiss you goodnight as well. Hermione would _love_ that.”  
  
Hermione _would_ love it. Lucius wasn’t hating the idea either. “Think it’ll help me sleep?”  
  
"Couldn’t hurt.”  
  
Nodding, Lucius turned back to his paper, surreptitiously checking the clock to see how much longer till bedtime. “I suppose I could try it for a while.” With another glance, he assessed Snape’s mood and deemed it propitious. “Speaking of Hermione and all that she loves, have you . . . _returned her sentiments_ yet?”  
  
Snape’s lip curled in a sneer of discomfort—or possibly nausea—and he lowered his fork as if he could no longer abide the sight of his sausage. “I can’t say it.”  
  
Lucius nodded sympathetically and, looking down, ran the pad of his thumb around the lip of his coffee cup.  “I think I’m going to tell her soon.”  
  
Shoulders sinking, Severus turned his eyes toward the ceiling in a frustrated half-roll. “Marvelous. Then I’ll be the only one not saying it.”  
  
“I know, and I don’t want that to happen—for your sake or hers—but I need to tell her.”  
  
“You just don’t want her to like Draco more than you.”  
  
“Of course I don’t want her to like Draco more than me!”  
  
Severus flinched, his expression tinged with remorse. “She doesn’t,” he said in a gentler tone. “I’ve been in her head. She loves us all equally. And she doesn’t care that we don’t say it.”  
  
“Yes, she does,” Lucius shot back. “You know perfectly well she does. Everyone wants to be told they’re loved. And I want to say it. It's eating me alive.”  
  
Snape didn’t reply.  
  
Lucius took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. “I’m not trying to ruin your morning, Severus. Honestly,” he murmured. “I just didn't want you to be blindsided by my decision, and I certainly don't want to make you the odd man out. But, Severus, I think you might be approaching this whole concept from the wrong angle. If you did tell her . . . that won't mean the things you felt in the past never happened.” No way was he mentioning Lily’s name first thing in the morning. He didn’t want to come home to a poison soufflé. “You don’t have to stop loving one to love the other.”  
  
Snape’s jaw appeared to be set in stone. Bloody hell, that man had a piercing stare.  
  
“Hermione specifically told me she’s fine with me still loving Narcissa. In fact, she seemed encouraged by it. She says it means I don’t love lightly, that I really mean it. So I’m sure she’d understand your situation.”  
  
One black eyebrow rose, but the rest of his face remained lifeless.  
  
“Just think it over, Severus.”  
  
Severus looked away, his face pinched, deep in thought. “Saying it seems so . . . final.”  
  
“That's precisely why I want to say it. It _is_ final for me. I want her to know she’s safe here, that she can depend on me for everything.”  
  
“You don’t feel as though you’re leaving Narcissa behind?”  
  
Lucius winced and set down his coffee. “Narcissa is always with me. I’m not leaving her behind. I’m just . . . opening a new chapter in my life. And to be honest, it’s already open; all I'm doing is putting a title on it.”  
  
Snape nodded as if considering that.  
  
Risking a hex, Lucius dared utter the L-word, “Why don’t you just tell her about Lily?”  
  
“She already knows.”  
  
“You told her?”  
  
“No. She already knows.”  
  
Did that man have to be so mysterious at such an early hour? “Then I’m sure she understands your reticence.”  
  
“I’ll think about it.”  
  
They both heard Hermione giggling, and turned to see her stumble through the kitchen door with Draco, the two of them grappling with each other like a couple of randy teenagers.  
  
“Crepes!” Hermione cheered. “I’m sooooo hungry.”  
  
“After everything I just gave you?” Draco asked in mock disbelief. “I thought you were full.”  
  
“Never!” She leaned in and kissed Snape’s temple. “Morning. Why do you look so serious? Is something wrong?”  
  
Severus shook his head and pointed at her plate. “Sit down and eat, love. You have a busy day.”  
  
After brushing an inky hank of hair from his face, she pecked his cheek. “I’ll be home for lunch today. Can I sit in your lap while I eat?”  
  
Snape’s scowl lightened. “Yes, of course you can.”  
  
Hermione pressed her lips to his ear, whispering so only he could hear.  
  
She was telling him she loved him. She told them all every morning, but she only said it out loud to Draco, as if anything above a whisper might spook the two older men.  
  
Snape met Lucius’s eye as she took her seat, and Lucius could tell Severus wanted to say those words just as much as he did.  
  
Hermione leaned over and kissed the corner of Lucius’s mouth. “Morning.”  
  
“Good morning, princess. Guess what I saw in the Daily Prophet this morning.” He waggled the newspaper at her.  
  
“My article?” she exclaimed, grabbing it up and searching the headlines.  
  
“Mm-hm. Page six.”  
  
She pawed through the first pages and upon seeing herself, broke into a bouncy dance. “This is great. Hopefully it’ll bring in some volunteers. We need more people to answer all the owls we’re getting.” Hermione turned to him. “What are you doing today?”  
  
“I have to look at some property in Wales and then go to the bank for a few meetings.”  
  
She skewered a sausage link with her fork and lifted it to her lips. “Will you be home at the usual time?”  
  
“I will. Will you?”  
  
Grimacing guiltily, she raised both shoulders. “That’s my plan, but I always seem to get tied up with something unexpected.”  
  
At the mention of her getting tied up, Lucius flashed Severus a secretive look, and Severus hid his smile in his coffee.  
  
Draco scooped up his stack of crepes and, after arranging three sausage links in the center, folded everything over into a sandwich. “I’ve got a meeting this morning. I’d better run. See you after work, love.” He walked around Snape’s chair and kissed Hermione’s poofy head before speeding toward the door. “No working late,” he called over his shoulder. “I get anxious when you’re not here.”  
  
“I’ll try. Wait! come back here.”  
  
Spinning around, Draco jogged back to her side.  
  
Hermione tugged on his tie so he’d bend down, and when he was in her face, she rubbed her nose over his and pecked his lips. “I love you, Draco. Be good today.”  
  
"But it's so fun to be bad,” he retorted with a devious smile.  
  
Grinning, she poked him in the chest. “I know what you’re trying to do. You can’t be bad just to get my attention. You’re not going to like how I handle that.”  
  
“Yeah? We’ll see. You can’t reprimand me if you’re not home, so I’m not too worried.”  
  
Hermione appeared a bit hurt by yet another slight on her obsessive work habits, and Draco must have noticed, because he placed a smattering of loud kisses across her cheek then buried his face in her neck. Squealing in delight, she pretended to struggle against him.  
  
Draco laughed and placed a final kiss to the top of her head. “I love you. See you when you get home.”  
  
Gasping with giggles, Hermione could only nod.  
  
On his way to the door, Draco’s hand brushed along Snape's arm in an absent caress. “Bye, Severus.”  
  
Snape met Lucius’s eye to see if he saw. “Goodbye, Draco.”  
  
Jealousy pounded though Malfoy's veins like throbbing magma— _That is MY man!_ —but his outburst was tempered by the flash of affection sparkling through Snape’s gaze.  
  
_Well, well, well. What have we here?_ Had Draco already breached Snape's defenses? This was more than goodnight kisses and long talks in the library. Severus had become attached.  
  
And despite what everyone thought, Lucius wasn’t so selfish he would deny that man the human contact he so obviously needed.  
  
He just wished Severus could have “connected” with someone other than Draco. Not just because Lucius couldn’t stand the thought of Draco stealing his lover, but because he knew Severus had been subtly supporting and guiding the boy, and he didn’t want anyone usurping his role as father.  
  
Although, to be fair, he might have dethroned himself. No one wanted to hear unsolicited criticism about every facet of his life—it had certainly never endeared Abraxas to Lucius—but remaining silent would be like telling Draco, “I’m fine with you living a substandard life,” and Lucius couldn’t do that. Draco needed guidance.  
  
But whose guidance did he need more? The tough-love of a solicitous father, or the lenient care of a neutral third party?  
  
Lucius watched as Snape methodically dissected his crepes with the tip of his knife.  Totally calm and collected. Cool. Fucking hell, who was Lucius kidding? If he were in Draco’s shoes, he’d pick Severus in a heartbeat.  
  
And what about Severus, who would he pick if the choice were between Lucius and Draco? What if he preferred the softer touch of a submissive partner? What if he preferred Draco’s playful neediness? Merlin’s balls, what if he just preferred the way Draco kissed? _Goddammit! If he thinks Draco’s a better kisser than me, I’ll hex the both of them._  
  
Malfoy slammed down his coffee with a loud clunk and then blushed when Hermione and Severus gave him matching looks of concern. “Sorry,” he muttered, dabbing at the spill with his napkin. “Caffeine rush.”  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes as if she saw through his fib—damn aura vision—but she didn’t call him out. Instead, she turned to Snape and changed the subject, “Are you working in your lab today?”  
  
“That was my intention. Failure three ninety-six will be ready when you get home.”  
  
Hermione put her hand over his. “You never know, today might be the day.”  
  
“I don’t expect it to work. I’m merely going through the motions so I can say I exhausted every avenue.”  
  
She squeezed his fingers. “Maybe I can help you this weekend.”  
  
“There’s nothing for you to help with,” Severus grumbled, clearly sensitive about his ongoing failure. “You’ve already gone through all my notes.”  
  
“Okay then, maybe I’ll just suck the disappointment out of you.”  
  
A snicker broke through his gruff exterior, and Severus raised his coffee to her. “I look forward to that.”  
  
Laughing, Hermione glanced at the clock. “I’d better get going.” She chugged her juice in three large gulps then leaned over and kissed Severus goodbye. “Lots to do. I’ll see you at noon.”  
  
“Have a good day, love.”  
  
Hermione beamed at him and then ran over to Lucius. “You have a good day too. I’ll miss you.”  
  
Tucking a migrated curl back behind her ear, he pulled her in and nipped her juice-sweetened lower lip. “I’ll miss you too, princess.”  
  
“Love you,” she whispered in his ear.  
  
He smiled. “Be home on time. We all need you as much as your charity cases.”  
  
“I’ll try my best.”  
  
Hermione grabbed her briefcase, and before he could blink, she was out the door. Gone for the day. She always seemed to be in such a hurry lately. It left him feeling oddly nervous.  
  
Snape cut his eyes toward the dirty dishes, and they zipped to the sink like a herd of frightened first-years. With a resigned grunt, he pushed himself out of his chair and followed them over, mumbling an incantation to bring the sponge and water to life.  
  
As each clean dish emerged from the water, Severus plucked it from the air and then dried it with a wave of his hand. Another wave of his hand sent the plate to its respective home.  
  
Sipping his coffee, Lucius watched him for a minute, turned on by not only the way those hands worked their wandless magic but also the way Snape’s black shirt stretched and moved over every muscle in his upper body. How did that man turn the most mundane job into something sensual? In his mind’s eyes, he saw Severus shirtless, the long valley of his spine disappearing into the tapered waist of his trousers. Too bad he felt the need to glamour away the scars that crosshatched that perfect back. They lent a certain air of mystery and danger and were, quite frankly, sexy as hell. Sexy but sad. They each told a story Severus probably wanted to forget. He’d been hiding them since his mid-twenties, and even though Lucius had insisted they turned him on, Snape refused to drop the concealment charms.  
  
Remembering the way those scars used to shine in the candlelight sent Lucius reeling into the past: past nights alone with Severus after Death Eater meetings, past nooners in the dungeon during Snape’s planning period, past threesomes with Narcissa upstairs in their bed. The further into the past he went, the more scars he saw, and the more scars he saw, the more he remembered what had brought them on. All the abuse. The pain. He couldn’t help thinking about everything Severus had been through. Everything they’d been through together.  
  
And that’s when an overwhelming sense of synchronicity rippled through his gut, and he came to the sudden realization that so much of what made Severus Severus was what made Lucius Lucius. They’d shared almost an entire lifetime. They existed in one another.  
  
Malfoy rose to his feet, drifting toward Snape without consciously knowing why. When he was just behind him, an inch away, Lucius raised his hand and brushed aside the curtain of stringy, black hair blocking his path. A choppy lock feathered over his fingers, and the sensation felt so familiar a warm shudder of déjà vu prickled up his flesh. This was where he was meant to be. Bowing his head, he pressed his lips to the nape of Snape’s neck and breathed in the salty clean scent of his skin.  
  
“What are you doing?” Severus asked, not sounding displeased. “Don’t you have an appointment?”  
  
Lucius caught him by the wrist, fingertips pressed to his throbbing pulse. Sliding his hand up Snape’s crisp cotton sleeve, he mapped the ropy contours of the muscle beneath. There were scars hidden there too. He knew them all. When he reached his shoulder, Lucius curled his fingers around the sharp bone and drew him back against his body. For a moment there was peace, and Lucius closed his eyes, settling into its purring hum. But then, as if his blasted bollocks knew only one response to that energy, a rush of desire flared through his sex, and his scrotum began to rise. _Need you! Now._ Sinking his fingers into Snape's shoulder, Malfoy took a step back and roughly spun him around.  
  
Severus looked at him, eyebrow lifted in a blasé arch, but a tic of amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth.  
  
Lucius stared at that mouth, that wickedly sinful mouth that had explored every inch of his body with complete abandon. The mouth that had hurled the most venomous, cutting insults, but had also sung the most healing songs imaginable. The mouth that, after a lifetime of guarded silence, couldn’t even open to say three simple words to the witch they both loved.  
  
Lucius leaned in, hovering a breath away. That was _his_ mouth.  
  
With surprising force, he attacked, kissing Severus so violently the impact knocked the Potions master into the counter. But Severus came right back at him, giving as good as he got, and Lucius’s heart roared so loudly the walls of his chest rattled.  
  
Just as he started to lose himself in the hypnotic swirl of Snape’s tongue, he realized he’d lost track of time, and unfortunately, the man he had to meet was a stickler for punctuality. Knowing he didn’t posses the strength to quit that kiss on his own accord, Lucius grabbed a fistful of raven hair and hauled Snape backward.  
  
Inches apart, their eyes met, and if not for the ragged echo of their panting to mark the passing seconds, Lucius would have thought time had stopped. A deep hunger electrified the air between them, the vibrations of it buzzing through Malfoy’s lips and groin. When he finally managed to speak, the quake of those vibrations traveled all the way up to his vocal cords, “Have a good day, Severus.”  
  
It took a few seconds to register, but then Severus blinked and whispered, “You too,” his smooth baritone raspy with want.  
  
As if Imperioused by that rasp, Malfoy’s hand dropped to Snape’s placket, and the stiff heat of growing arousal pulsated in his palm. Severus growled and thrust into his touch, his black eyes somehow going even darker. Swallowing hard, Lucius squeezed him and, with a tight nod, assured him they would pick up where they left off as soon as he returned home.  
  
Afraid he’d fall prey to his urges and lose a day of work if he didn’t leave right then, Lucius forced himself to turn away, willing his feet to move across the kitchen, out of Snape’s gravitational pull. As he strode to the door, his own erection became tangled in his shorts, and Lucius reached into his trousers to adjust himself.  
  
When he felt his cock in his hand, solid as marble, he smiled. Draco and Hermione might give Severus a taste of sweet and soft, but a man couldn’t live on fairy cakes alone. Sometimes a wizard needed to tear into something hard to remind himself of his own strength.  
  
And sometimes a wizard needed nothing more than a kiss to quiet his fears. It had been ludicrous to think Severus might pass him over in favor of Draco. If anything, it was Draco who had the weakest foothold. Last in, first out and all.  
  
But if it was true what Hermione had said about there not being a limit on how many people a person could hold in his heart, then really no one had to be left out. It didn’t have to be a competition.  
  
It could just be.  
  
If Severus wanted to let Draco in, then perhaps Lucius shouldn’t take it personally. The jealousy might always be there, but he couldn’t deny that Draco and Severus complemented each other in ways Lucius and Severus did not.  
  
That might’ve been cause for jealousy as well, but Lucius was confident the bond he shared with Severus couldn’t be broken. Their history together had woven a safety net neither man wanted to lose, and the peace they found in the other’s presence was matched only by their inexhaustible passion.  
  
Lucius and Severus had their own unique melody—just as Draco and Severus had theirs, and Hermione had hers with each of them. Currently, they were all playing in harmony, and Lucius didn’t want to be the tone-deaf monster who ruined the song for everyone. The piece as a whole was too beautiful to risk.  
  
But if anyone tried to steal one of his duets . . .  
  
He growled low in his throat and bared his teeth at the empty hall. _Hell hath no fury like a Lucius scorned._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Impromptu—A short piano piece, often improvisational and intimate in character.
> 
> “The Boy is Mine” by Brandy and Monica. Released in 1998. Written and composed by LaShawn Daniels, Japhe Tejeda, Fred Jerkins III, Rodney "Darkchild" Jerkins, and Brandy. Inspired by the 1982 hit duet “The Girl is Mine” by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney. <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Va1Y6uAgNJY>


	57. Stab

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next chapter release will be 58-61. And, yeah, I’m planning to overhaul them all, so it could take me a while.  
> Still no smut here, but there could be some lemony goodness in the next set. *cough* 59 and 60 *cough*  
> Hmmmm, I just looked at what’s coming up, and now I’m not so sure I want to put 61 with that group. It might need to be by itself. Or with the next set. Meh, I’ll figure it out while I’m editing.

57—Stab

“Tell her about it.”—Billy Joel

(Severus) 

Breathing deeply, Severus inhaled the warm aroma of fried eggs and melted butter. What bliss! Never again would he be forced to choke down his morning coffee amidst the malodorous stench of pimply teenagers and cold waffles; there had been a time when he thought he’d never rid his sinuses of that putrescent pong. But now—Ahh! Breakfast actually made him want to eat. He delighted in the rich tapestry of scents, all of which brought to mind Hermione’s sunny smile and bright good-morning kisses. He could think of no better way to begin the day.

Or end it.

Although, Draco was a close second. In the menu of meal associations, he was the dessert course of kisses—decadently fluffy, the kind of mouth Severus could indulge in no matter how full. He hadn’t tasted the rest of Draco’s body yet, but surely that boy’s bollocks were as sweet as his lips; he was so damn sugary, he probably ejaculated frosting. Lucius, on the other hand, leaned more toward savory—a dinner kiss if ever there was one—grand and filling, all that delicious desire heavy on his tongue; the perfect contrast to Draco’s weightless affection. 

But despite those glaring differences, father and son shared one commonality—flavor. They both tasted so strongly of Hermione’s pussy, that if Severus closed his eyes, he could swear he was snogging her snatch.

And since that honeyed muffin had become everyone’s favorite between-meal snack, no doubt his own mouth shared the same sapor.

His stomach chose that particular moment to rumble, and Severus snorted at the timing, unsure if his appetite had been awoken by the smell of breakfast or the memory of her succulent cunt.

 _‘It’s both,’_ his stomach quipped.

Snickering, Snape conceded to his gut’s instincts. _Sorry, but she not down yet; we’ll have to make do with what’s on the stove._

In anticipation of her arrival, Severus slid Hermione’s eggs onto her plate and took them to the table. Lucius, who was hidden behind his _Daily Prophet,_ pushed his own plate from beneath the wall of newspaper, and Snape stared at it for a few seconds, caught off guard by what he saw. The thing appeared to have been licked clean. Usually Malfoy was the first to sit down and the last to leave, drawing out every bite as if he were being paid by the hour; he didn’t eat breakfast—he grazed. But apparently his gustatory machinery needed nothing more than a friendly jump-start to kick into high gear; perhaps Severus would have to make that morning’s spontaneous wake-up wank a daily affair.

“More eggs?” he drawled wryly.

“No, I’m stuffed. That was positively—” Lucius trailed off, leaving the compliment to dangle in ambiguity. His knuckles went white, and he pulled the paper closer, his back rigid as a board. “Fucking hell,” he hissed under his breath.

Severus froze. He could swear all the air in the room just vanished into Malfoy like a black hole.

Lucius lowered the paper and peered at him over the top, his gaze steely and grim. “You’d better read this.”

Stomach lurching, Severus stiffly strode around the table. Couldn’t this wait until after breakfast? Drama didn’t sit well on an empty stomach. He hadn’t even had his coffee yet. Leaning over Malfoy’s shoulder, he searched the dancing print for signs of trouble.

Lucius tapped his middle finger against an article halfway down the page.

 _Tarnished Trio?_

_This week we saw an explosion of support for The Phoenix Fire Foundation, Hermione Granger’s newest pet project. She claims to stand for truth and transparency, but the story of her own success is mired in mystery. How did such a young girl become the head of a multi-million Galleon charity, and where did all that money come from?_

_To find our answers, we went to her former employer, Mr. William Hiddleman, head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic. It turns out Ms. Granger was “let go” from her position as Director of Creature Justice. We were told that several sub-sections had been made redundant due to budget cuts, and Ms. Granger’s was one of them. However, when we spoke to her former co-workers, they suggested she had been sacked for other reasons, reasons involving her personal life._

_It turns out, Hermione Granger, illustrious war heroine and moral crusader, has been dating none other than Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and current International Liaison for the Ministry. Although pardoned of all criminal charges after the war, the public rightly remains wary. The Malfoy lineage is well known for its strong opinions on pureblood superiority, and their close involvement with You-Know-Who is a matter of court record._

_We were curious what Ms. Granger’s closest confidants had to say about this pairing. Does Harry Potter know his best friend is fraternizing with the enemy? Witnesses told us of a heated argument between Potter and Granger that took place the day she was dismissed. Although no one could make out their whispered row, Draco Malfoy’s name was mentioned, and after an angry climax that ended with Granger shouting about having been fired, she stormed off in tears._

_We tracked down Harry Potter to ask him about the circumstances of her redundancy, but he refused to speak on the matter. When asked about Granger and Malfoy’s alleged relationship, Potter said only, “No comment,” and then rudely had us escorted from the premises._

_But by all accounts Ms. Granger never tried to hide her involvement with the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune. Every source we spoke to at the Ministry confirmed they’d seen the two together on many occasions, often in rather compromising positions. If they’re openly dating, why would her best friend not confirm the relationship?_

_Suspecting some bigger secret had yet to be revealed, we turned our attention to the foundation. Inquiries at the Record Department and Gringotts exposed at least part of the puzzle: Ms. Granger’s newfound altruism is being funded by none other than the infamous Azkaban escapee, Lucius Malfoy, father of Draco Malfoy._

_Why would a pureblood Death Eater finance the largest creature charity on record? Is it because his son is smitten by the indomitable Ms. Granger? Or have we stumbled upon something much more sordid?_

_We can only guess as to why a middle-aged widower is giving a young girl so much money, and why, as we have come to discover, she is living in his mansion._

_Ms. Granger’s blatant duplicity is alarming. She claims to stand for justice and honor, yet she’s dating a known Death-Eater and living in the very house once occupied by You-Know-Who. Something stinks in this charity, and it’s the stench of betrayal and secrets. How can we trust a witch with so much to hide? The public deserves answers._

The blow was so low, Severus couldn’t think straight. All he could do was stand there and stare the pale yellow hillock of eggs on her plate, the eggs he'd scrambled just the way she liked, the eggs that would, undoubtedly, wind up in the bin.  

When he finally managed to speak, he could barely hear himself, “How do we tell her?”

Lucius closed the paper and sneered at the front page as if it were made of Bubotuber pus. “Let’s hide it,” he suggested darkly.

Severus rubbed his face. “Believe me, I’d love to, but I hardly think the rest of the world would be willing to play along with our cowardly charade. Besides, it’s not as if she wasn’t expecting this. Well . . . maybe not this _exactly_ , but I think we all saw the shit approaching the fan.”

“Mmmm,” Lucius grunted. “I was hoping it would be a bit further down the road.”

“We all did. We’ll just have to deal with it sooner rather than later.”

“You mean _she’ll_ have to deal with it.”

Severus grimaced and pressed his hand to his stomach. He didn’t like the idea of Hermione carrying this cross on her own. Society’s beef was with them, not her; but now she’d be the one on the front line, taking the heaviest fire. “We just have to make sure she knows we’re here for her and we’ll handle this in whatever way she chooses. The public backlash will be harsh, but . . . she’s strong. She’ll fight back. Knowing Hermione, she probably has some contingency plan.”

“She has all the support I can give her, but I don’t know if it’s enough.” Lucius looked up at him, his slate grey eyes hollow and haunted. “This will break her heart.”

The urge to reach out and stroke the sorrow from Malfoy's brow twitched through Snape’s fingers, but he didn’t think Lucius would appreciate the coddling. "If it does, then we’ll just have to hold it together for her.” 

“Shh, I think I hear them coming,” Lucius whispered, his eyes darting toward the door. “You break it to her.”

“What! Why me?”

“Because sometimes daddies have to tell little girls bad news.”

Severus lowered his voice to a growl, “And do you know how they do that? They bring out a sparkly unicorn to soften the blow.”

Lucius was about to retort when the door swung open, and Hermione and Draco burst into the room, their smiling faces incongruous with the sour mood. Sensing the tension as soon as they stepped into the room, they both stopped in their tracks and fell silent.

“What's up with you two?” Draco asked, his voice almost soundless, as if he didn’t really want to know.

Severus glanced at Lucius, and when Malfoy gave him a pointed eyebrow arch, he breathed out a rough sigh, already exhausted by the day. And it wasn’t even nine yet. “Sit down, Hermione.”

She did as requested, slipping into her usual seat, her eyes bouncing back and forth between them, searching for reassurance.

Lucius gave Snape a “go ahead” nod.

Sitting down next to her, Severus looked into her big brown eyes and covered her hand with his. “Hermione . . .”

Anxiety wrinkled her forehead, and she sank her teeth into her lower lip: her nervous lip bite. He knew without looking that her other hand was balled into a little fist in her lap.

 _Bollocks!_ Why did he have to be the bad guy every damn time? Was he doomed to play the villain for all eternity? Fuck that! Looking up, he caught Malfoy’s eye and held him in place with his darkest glower. _My God, man! Let me be the knight in shining armor for once in my life! I can’t be her bad-news Boggart today. Not about this._ “Lucius has something to tell you.” 

 _Time to sparkle,_ _ponyboy_ _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stab—In music, a stab is a single staccato note or chord that adds dramatic punctuation to a composition. 
> 
> “Tell Her About It” by Billy Joel. Written by Bill Joel and released in 1983. <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=p0pM5dm--yQ>


	58. Bridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I thought I was moving along so quickly with this, but rewriting four chapters never goes as fast as I think it will. *Sigh* I’ve finally gotten to that place where I know I can’t read these chapters one more freakin time, so it’s time to post them. Hope you all enjoy. (I’ll get one up each day. I still need to write the notes for 59-61 and do some last minute editing.)

58—Bridge    


“If you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on, ‘cause everybody hurts . . . sometimes.”—R.E.M.   


(Hermione)   


Hermione wasn’t a stranger to frustration, but the past week gave the word new meaning. Instead of requests for help or offers of assistance, the foundation got bags of hate mail and Howlers, all of which had to be sorted through in search of legitimate cases.    


Hermione and Florence donned protective gloves and goggles each morning and spent the first half of the day fighting off Snapping Memos and Attack Envelopes. While dividing the “correspondence,” Hermione bit the proverbial bullet and confessed to Flo who had sent those flowers so long ago. She didn’t feel right lying to her second in command, and after ten years of working side by side, Florence had proven herself a trustworthy friend. Not to mention the woman was completely unflappable. If ever there was a Queen Of Cool Calm Cats, it was Flo.   


True to form, Flo brushed off the news with aplomb. She said she didn’t care who shared Hermione’s bed—she only cared about continuing the mission of the foundation.   


Hermione had never been so relieved in all her life. Not only because her bizarre love triangle—quadrangle?— had been accepted, but because she no longer had to keep her home life a secret. Severus could fire-call her in the middle of the day without raising suspicion, and Draco could stop by for a nooner if so inclined. For the first time ever, Hermione felt free to express the many facets of her love outside the manor, which once experienced, was rather revolutionary. Love wasn’t meant to be kept under wraps.

A step toward free love, however, was the only break she got.   


After the first influx of Howlers, most of the volunteers quit, leaving Hermione and Flo to cover all the bases on their own. None of the cases left—they had nowhere else to go—and new ones were coming in all the time. Hermione’s obsessive orderliness and uncompromising determination kept everything running smoothly, but the pressure to succeed thickened the air with an oppressive heaviness. If she failed, it might set back creature rights twenty years. And then Skeeter would have gotten the best of her, and she couldn’t live with herself if that happened.   


Unfortunately, stress didn’t give a shit about determination, so the harder she pushed herself, the harder she fell. Affronted by her rabid willpower, her brain and body took turns going on strike. One minute she’d be staring into space, zombified by exhaustion, and the next she’d be flat on her back in the break room, desperately trying to stop the spasms in her shoulder and hip.   


Each night, she dragged herself home and bawled in the bathtub until she was too worn out to think. Draco had abandoned the playful little boy routine to be her sensitive man, and he’d taken to stroking her into a cuddle coma as Severus bathed her. After the bath, Lucius usually ate her pussy while Draco tongued her tits; Severus provided the audio: a suggestive commentary that had Muffy weeping the silkiest tears of gratitude.   


She wanted all three of them to fuck the hell out her—to blot out reality with cock after cock after cock—but they kept refusing, claiming to be too worried about her. While she appreciated the consideration, she was going to start assaulting them in their sleep if the weekend didn’t bring on some kind of semen tsunami.   


‘ _Semen storms_ ,’ Muffy intoned. ‘ _Didn’t the Meteorological Committee recommend taking shelter in one’s home during such inclement weather?’_   


_Damn straight_ , Hermione snickered to herself.   


She glanced at the clock and was grateful to see it agreeing with her for once: Quitting Time. The day had been absolutely endless; she swore when she wasn’t looking the minute hand had been running in reverse. Despite her enthusiasm for helping the underrepresented, all she wanted to do was go home and be the cheese in double-decker Malfoy-Snape-Malfoy toastie. The logistics of making that work were too much for her addled brain, but she knew Muffy would come up with some kind of configuration once she had the raw materials on hand.   


After saying goodnight to Flo and locking up, Hermione Appartated to the manor and called out the password to the gate without even realizing she’d spoken. The driveway felt too long, as it often did after a trying day, but as soon as she saw the soft light filtering through the downstairs windows, her step quickened. Home sweet home.    


Or snake pit sweet snake pit.    


Slytherins were far more snuggly than anyone gave them credit for. At least hers were. Very accommodating and attentive too.    


Her feet and back ached something awful, and she wondered if one of them would give her a massage before dinner. Lucius was the foot rub master, and Draco could always get that knot out of the middle of her back. Maybe she’d ask them to tag team her so she could have both. If he wasn’t busy in the lab, Severus could massage her clit.    


_‘With his tongue.’_   


Hermione snorted at Muffy’s proviso as she threw open the front door.   


In the entrance hall, she found Draco on his knees, re-stacking what appeared to be an overflow of letters. He glanced up, and when he saw it was her, a pang of guilt flickered over his face.   


“What are you up to?” Hermione asked, dropping her briefcase on the table next to the chair.   


“Nothing. Just tidying up.”   


“Tidying up?” Draco didn’t clean. He didn’t even _know_ any cleaning charms. Crouching down, she snagged several envelopes from the floor.   


“No, Hermione! I’ll get those. You go see Severus. He’s down in the lab waiting for you.”   


Hermione ignored him and opened the letter.   


_Harry Potter doesn’t need enemies with friends like you._   


It was unsigned.    


She flipped to the next one. _That’s blood money! Death Eater Whore!_   


The next. _The worst kind of evil is the kind that hides behind a mask of righteousness. You know what you are._   


The one after that was far more creative. Cut-out letters of different shapes and sizes had been spellotaped to the parchment, and the discombobulated text suggested she do something rather rude to Muffy with a poisoned dagger. How sweet. “Did these come to the house?”   


Agony shot through Draco’s stormy gaze. “We didn’t want you to see.”

She handed him the letters. “You don’t have to hide them. We’re getting the same thing at the office.”   


“I know, but you deserve to rest when you get home. You shouldn’t be dealing with this shit every second of the day.” Draco gathered up the parchment and exploded Howlers into a scattered bundle.   


“Ginny came by the offices today to help out. She said Harry’s been getting letters too, mostly telling him I can’t be trusted.”   


Draco tapped his wand to the stack, and the whole thing vanished with a muffled pop. Hermione stared at the empty spot, a wistful frown on her lips; if only all her problems could be so easily dispatched.   


Rising from the floor, Draco drew her in, his hands gripping her flesh as if he needed to make sure she was real. After touching his lips to her forehead, he sighed into her hair, and that sigh captured her sentiments to a tee—thoroughly exhausted but grateful for the moment of respite.    


“How was your day besides the letters?” he murmured.   


“It was okay. We got some new cases. And I got to watch Flo blow up a Howler before it could scream at me. That was pretty exciting.”   


“Let’s go down and tell Severus you’re home. He’ll be glad to see you.”   


“Is your father home yet?”

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”   


“Did you sneak out of work early?”   


“Of course I did. It’s Friday, isn’t it? And I hardly want to hang around the office with everybody talking about me behind my back.”   


Her stomach lurched. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tucking her head beneath his chin and hiding her face in his heart. “I know how hard you’ve worked to rebuild your reputation—and now . . . it’s like you’re back at square one. This must be so hard for you.”   


He growled and hugged her tighter. “The only thing that’s hard for me is seeing you so tired and sad.”   


Tears sprang to her eyes. Fuck. She _was_ tired and sad. Hermione felt as if she’d been treading water for days on end. And beneath the choppy surface an ocean of unnameable horrors waited, each more terrifying than the last. So she kept swimming. Failure wasn’t an option. There were too many people counting on her. She had to be strong. Had to play it smart. Had to prove herself   


As a hero.   


As a woman in a man’s world

As the person she thought she was supposed to be.   


And sometimes the weight of all that expectation crushed her. She wanted to scream and cry and break into a million pieces, but the only time she felt she could do that was when she was at home with the three of them. And even then, sometimes it was difficult.   


Wrapping Draco in a ferocious hug, Hermione clung to him in the hope he would keep her afloat for a few minutes so she could rest. “I love you so much, Draco.”   


“I love you too,” he whispered. His arms cinched around her—harder and harder. Until she couldn’t inhale.   


Which was exactly what she needed. Expelling all the air in her lungs, Hermione sank into his embrace and relaxed for the first time in twelve hours.   


In the middle of Draco’s Heimlich-hug, the front door creaked open and Lucius appeared, his angular face bursting into a surprised smile as soon as he saw her. After depositing his briefcase on the table next to hers, he strode toward them, and Draco passed her off to his father, a seamless transition from Malfoy to Malfoy.    


Lucius gave her a soft kiss, the kind that made her knees turn to jelly, and Hermione moaned for more.   


Chuckling, he pulled back, his mouth moving against hers as he spoke, “You’re actually home on time. I’m in shock.”   


“I just got here.”   


He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “How was your day, princess? Did you save the world?”   


Smiling, Hermione dragged him close and buried her nose in his chest, breathing deeply to immerse herself in his scent. A hint of cologne lingered in the weave of his shirt, but she could smell the real Lucius underneath, the salty Lucius who reeked of sex and snogging. Gods! She needed to keep that scent on tap at work. Whenever things got too tense, she could just sneak into her office for some pheromone aromatherapy.   


Now if she could just get Lucius and Draco to stand close enough so she could sniff them both at the same time. One for each nostril. Olfactory heaven.   


“Have you told Severus you’re home?” he asked.   


“I was just going.”   


“We’ll go with you. I’m sure he’ll be ready to take a break. And he'll be pleased you’re home at a decent time.”   


Mmmmm, lab-scented Severus. Not quite as good as sex-scented Severus, but definitely worth a sniff. Plus, she felt uneven without him. She’d layered herself in Eau de Draco and Essence of Lucius, but she needed those top notes of pure Potions master to balance out the medley.   


A niggling urge flared to life in her belly. A compulsion. She had to fill in the missing piece.   


Grinning at her two blonds, she spun around and made a dash for the dungeons. Draco caught up with her first, and she heard Lucius just behind him, both of them snickering at her impatience.   


When they reached the lab, Hermione flung open the door, and Severus jerked up from his cauldron, a crooked scowl of confusion crinkling his black eyes. Hermione ran at him full tilt, but instead of alarm, she saw a small smirk rolling up the edges of his mouth.   


He bent down and caught her, spinning halfway around to absorb her momentum. “What are you all doing down here?”   


“Coming to get you.”   


Severus kissed the top of her head. “I can’t believe you’re home before dark. Is this some special occasion? Have I won the— Oh Merlin . . . Did something happen at the office?” The sharp tips of his fingers pierced her shoulder. “I knew I should have put up some kind of protective charms. Those wards you’re using are far too basic.”   


Shaking her head, she squeezed him tight to still his anxiety. “Nothing happened. I was just too tired to stay.”   


His grip loosened ever so slightly. “I’ve been worried about you all day. I know you like to think the best of society, but there are a lot of treacherous people on the loose.”   


Hermione hid her smile in his shirt. Most of the wizarding world considered these men the epitome of treachery—highly dangerous—yet here, in this den of former Death Eaters, was where she felt safest. People weren’t always as they appeared. “I know. And I was careful today; I promise. But I came home to get away from all that. I just want to go take a bath and relax. And I mean take a bath with _all_ _of you_. As in naked. Cocks on parade. Followed by a live show in my pussy.”   


His breathy laugh ruffled her hair. “I believe that can be arranged. But first I  think a discussion is in order; two matters in particular need to be dealt with before we book any live shows.”   


_Nooooo_ _! Not before the bath!_ Discussion meant seriousness, and Hermione couldn’t take any more seriousness. She was all serious-ed out. But to keep the peace, she put on her big girl knickers and gave him her best Gryffindor smile. “Sure. What is it?”   


“Well, number one, since we’re all here, I’d like to address the hours you’ve been keeping. We’re concerned about you—and not just because of the threats. You’ve been working too hard lately, and it’s taking a toll on your health. Those circles under your eyes have gotten darker this week, and you haven’t been eating enough. I refuse to let this go on any longer. None of us can stand by and watch you destroy yourself. Doing your job and working hard is one thing—we’re very proud of what you’ve done—but you need to come home at a normal time and set all that aside.”   


“But there’s so much to do, Severus! How am I supposed to get it all done?”   


He cupped her face in one huge hand and placed his thumb lightly across her lips to wipe away her panicked grimace. “If need be, we’ll come in and help you. Keeping you sane and healthy is always our first priority.”   


Tears rushed her eyes, and Hermione ducked her head, pressing her face to his chest to hide the eruption. She didn’t want them to see how close she was to breaking.   


Over the past week, she’d felt the leaden weight of their concern tugging at her heart, but she’d put on her bravest smile and pretended to be getting better so they wouldn’t worry.  It hurt her to hurt them.   


But at the same time, she hadn’t been able to stop being the cause of their hurt.  She had to work. It consumed her. She had to push herself. Had to be the best. Her world would descend into chaos without her lists and goals. What would she do if she had nothing to strive toward? She had to leave a mark—make a difference. And that took commitment. Sweet Circe . . . it took so much of her.   


And it had taken her away from them.   


But they didn’t get cross. They didn’t blame her or belittle her stubbornness.  Here they were, just trying to support her in whatever way they could. Wanting her to succeed. Wanting her taken care of.    


Which was more than she could say for herself. She’d been so obsessed with the foundation, she’d been neglecting her own self-care. There was no time for healing when a new emergency came bursting through her door every ten minutes.   


But it dawned on her that she wouldn’t have anything to give if she had nothing left. She was hurting the foundation by not taking care of herself.   


And worst of all she was hurting Severus, Lucius, and Draco.   


With her throat too tight to speak, all she could do was nod at what Severus had said.   


“Well that was easy,” he quipped. “I guess we’ll move on to issue number two. What would you like to do about Skeeter’s article? Do you want to become a silent partner with the charity and let Flo be the frontman? Do you want to go down the the Daily Prophet and give Skeeter the comeuppance she so richly deserves? Or do you want one of us to . . . _take care of her_?”   


Hermione sputtered out a shaky laugh. “I really hope you don’t mean that in a mafia sense. She’s a conniving bitch, but I don’t want her dead.”   


Snape shrugged, seemingly indifferent. “Your call.”   


“I don't know what to do yet,” she sighed. “If I react, it'll look as though I've got something to hide.”   


“You do.”   


Hermione smiled. “Okay then, I'll look _guilty_. And while I’d gladly plead guilty to loving you three, I hardly think anyone is qualified to pass judgement on me.”   


“I am,” he shot back. “And let it be known that, in this house, the punishment shall always fit the crime.”   


Oh, thank Merlin! She'd recognize that clit-rattling rumble in his voice anywhere. He was going to fuck her back to health. “Sounds fair. Would you say that spanking is the proper punishment in this situation?”   


His brow quirked. “Hardly. Love begets love, and I suspect we’ll have to love you raw to make sure you learn your lesson.”   


“I hope that means actual cocks inside me, because my pussy’s starting to atrophy.”   


Severus gave her the most wicked grin and, sliding a hand over her arse, traced the valley of her cheeks with one long finger. Bowing his head, he brushed back her hair with his nose and put his lips to her ear. A warm exhalation ghosted over her skin, and his voice followed, rolling through her like velvet thunder, “From abundance springs satiety.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bridge—“A bridge provides a new melody, deepens lyrical meaning, and takes a song in a slightly new direction before returning to either a repeat of the chorus or a new verse.”—secretsofsongwriting.com
> 
>  
> 
> “Everybody Hurts” by R.E.M. Written by Bill Berry, Peter Buck, Mike Mills, and Michael Stipe and released in 1992 on their album Automatic for the People.  
> <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5rOiW_xY-kc>
> 
>  
> 
> “From abundance springs satiety.”—Titus Livius (Roman Historian), known as Livy in English. Author of Ab Urbe Condita, a history of Rom from the time of its founding until the reign of Augustus.


	59. Chorus

59—Chorus  

“You are shining some glory on me.”—Liz Phair  

(Draco)   

Hermione covered him the way the night sky blanketed the earth, sheltering him in her all-encompassing warmth. Straddling his hips, she pressed her breasts to his chest so tightly his heart gasped for air; but Draco had no intention of moving. He’d happily remain booby trapped for all eternity.  

Smoothing his hands up and down her back, he encouraged her to relax for Snape, who stood at the foot of the bed massaging her upraised arse with oil. Draco kept his knees spread so Severus could get close enough to reach, and the suggestive nature of their arrangement wasn’t lost on him. His thighs pulsated with the urge to snake around those slim hips and drag the Potions master atop them.   

But he knew better.  

If Snape’s cock so much as tapped his own, Draco would be creaming them both like a firehose.  

Merlin’s balls, when had he become such a sexual lightweight? Even at sixteen he’d had more self-control. At least then he’d been able to kiss someone without leaking all over his damn shorts. Now if Severus or Hermione even _looked_ at him the right way, he’d practically jizz himself just thinking about what might happen.  

That wasn’t normal, was it? Shouldn’t his cock be getting calmer? Shouldn’t his hormones be settling down? He was almost thirty for Salazar’s sake.  

Or had his younger self only had such superb self-control because teen Draco didn’t know what he was missing? Sneaking out of the dorms for some action had seemed exciting at the time, but making love to Hermione was something else entirely. Something spiritual. Her kisses were his communion. Her pussy held all the mysteries of the universe. And her breasts housed a love so divine, he often lost himself in their worship. She was the closest thing to holy he’d ever known.  

Whether Snape was also a religious experience remained to be seen—they hadn’t gotten that far—but kissing him _was_ rapturous. Where Hermione melted Draco with passion, Severus was more like a churning whirlpool of excitement that whipped his insides to a buttery flurry. And that was just with a peck on the lips.  

Well . . . maybe those goodnight kisses were more than a peck. They certainly _felt_ like more. But they weren’t what Draco would call goodnight snogs. There was no tongue involved, and they were surprisingly gentle for such a severe man.   

Snape was sort of a kissing contradiction.   

He came across as all dark and dangerous, a seething sea of sexual power, but then, as soon as their lips touched, all the harshness disappeared, and Draco found himself sinking into an unexpected softness. Snape's power and force were still palpable, but they weren’t wielded with the usual dominance; they found their way into his restraint and tenderness and, so, wound up coming across as care rather than demand. 

Their goodnight kisses were more like a conversation of lips, and Draco used those conversations to express all the things he couldn’t say out loud. An ocean of words waited on the tip of his tongue, but words seemed inadequate in the presence of such intimacy.  

Severus had let down his guard and offered him a taste of the Snape so few knew; Draco wouldn’t insult him by calling that to attention with an embarrassing conversation.   

Besides, his own kisses made his sentiments abundantly clear.  

At least he hoped they did.  

“Are you ready for the nozzle, baby?” Snape’s low voice could barely be heard over her eager mewls. 

“Yeeeeeeeesssss.”  

Draco smoothed his hands down her back, all the way to her bum and firmly gripped her soft flesh. In a fit of bliss, she bucked against him, viciously grinding against his cock, and Draco couldn’t decide whether to laugh or join in and just fuck the hell out of her. Playing it safe, he erred on the side of mirth and flashed Snape a knowing smile as he spread her cheeks. _Wet enough for_ _ya_ _?_  

Severus smirked and bowed his head in thanks. _‘Ready?’_ he mouthed.  

Nodding, Draco pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, “Slow down, love. Snape can’t hit a moving target. You want him to clean you out, don’t you?”  

“Uuuunngh!” Her hips jerked hard, causing his erection to pop backwards and sluice through her crevice.  

His knob battled Snape for access to her arse, but Severus continued to lube her with cool precision—he simply included Draco in the preliminaries.  

As soon as Draco felt those fingers dancing over his frenulum, his bollocks shot into orbit. Snapping his hips away, he growled in warning, but Severus just smiled and went on as if he hadn’t heard anything.  

 _Damn you, Snape! You know that’s not part of the plan_. Premature ejaculation served no one’s interests. _Stick to the goddamned script!_  

Lucius appeared behind Severus, holding out one of the larger enema nozzles for him to take. It shone in the lamplight, black as midnight but glistening like honey, and when Severus touched it to her backdoor, she began to tremble, as if the pressure alone had pushed her to the brink of climax.  

Draco held her tighter, attempting to keep her immobile so Severus could work. But she was having none of that—and Draco was no match for her overdeveloped humping muscles. After ten seconds of her squirming and moaning, Severus must have succeeded in his quest, because she shuddered and her pelvic motor slowed to a sinuous idle.  

“There you go,” Severus murmured. “Now we’ll just let that do its job. I’ll be right here if you get a cramp. We’ll take this as slowly as you like.”  

She made a sound that might have been part happy growl and part huff of disbelief. Apparently “slow” wasn’t to her liking.  

Draco agreed.  

Trailing his left hand down to her tubing tail, he nudged it deeper with the tips of his fingers, which earned him a contented wiggle. He teased her sphincter with a gentle in and out—just a few millimeters of movement—and Snape waved his hand to indicate it was safe to do it a bit harder, but Draco didn’t think that was necessary. Sometimes a gentle wave was enough to carry a person to the shores of paradise.

“Do you like that, love?” Draco breathed against her ear. “Do you want more? Something bigger perhaps?”  

“Yessss,” she groaned. “Please fuck me, Draco. I’ve been so empty without you.” Not waiting for an answer, she wedged a hand between them and grabbed hold of his dick.  

Draco wanted to stop her, afraid he wouldn’t last, but his body refused to block her advances. Over her shoulder, he saw Severus tip his head to one side, an inquisitive quirk to his brow. Lucius took advantage of the opening and latched on to his neck, teeth flashing like a vampire. His arms snaked around Snape’s waist to pull him closer, and Severus raised one arm over his head in a lazy stroke of encouragement.  

Draco’s eyes followed the movement of Snape’s fingers through Lucius’s hair. Would Severus stroke _him_ that way if they became lovers? Or would they develop their own unique style? 

Hermione slotted Draco into her dewy hollow, and the searing heat of her arousal drew a hiss of shock to his lips. Yanking his cock out of her fire, he stared up at her in reproachful disbelief. “Fucking hell, love! Not so fast! You can’t just plunge a wizard into that scalding cauldron; you’ve got to ease him into it.”  

“Did you just call my pussy a cauldron?” she laughed. “I’m not nearly that spacious, am I?”  

Snickering, he shook his head. “No. Not unless cauldrons have gotten considerably more compact in recent years. I just meant you’re about to singe off all my skin.”  

“I want you inside me while I’m full of water.”  

“That sounds lovely, but I prefer not to limp away from the encounter with third degree burns.”  

Hermione smiled and snuggled him back into place. “How long does it take a cock to acclimate to its surroundings?” Flexing her inner muscles, she gave his knob a satin kiss of courage.  

“Mmmmm,” he grunted. “You ask a compelling question. And you ask it so persuasively. I’m inclined to volunteer myself for testing.”   

Bracing himself for utter destruction, Draco slipped into her molten channel, gritting his teeth as a wreath of wet fire engulfed his manhood. Flames of silken passion licked at his groin and dripped down his bollocks like molten candle wax. Flowing. Wet. So so so fucking wet. The nozzle hadn’t come loose, had it? Nope. That was all her.  

Severus dropped one hand to her rump and eased the nozzle deeper. Hermione moaned, her knees flexing into Draco’s hips, and her walls clutched at his length, causing the edges of his vision to sparkle with black glitter.  

Amidst the dizzying waves of disorientation, Snape brushed his fingers, urging him to hold in the nozzle for her, and Draco nodded in understanding. _I know; I’ve got it . . . but you can keep_ _touching me_ _if you like_.   

Severus must have seen something in Draco’s expression, because he paused and gave him a look—a look Draco knew well. Desire burned in those onyx eyes. Restrained desire. Waiting. 

Draco wasn’t sure what the hell Snape was waiting for, and he made his impatience clear with a look of his own.  

Smiling, Severus inclined his head ever so slightly, as if accepting the invitation, but then he abruptly turned away. Into Lucius. They began to snog with such brutal passion, Draco froze, startled by the aggressiveness. He knew without being told that it was a warning. Severus was an experienced wizard with a serious dark streak; and clearly, he wanted Draco to know what he was getting into.  

But Draco saw something else in his warning. Protection. And fear.   

Severus was afraid of hurting him.  

But was he afraid of hurting him physically . . . or emotionally? Did he think Draco couldn’t handle two lovers? Was he scared it would cause too much jealousy with Lucius or Hermione? Did he think Draco would be hurt if he didn’t love him as much as he loved Hermione?   

 _Would_ he be hurt by that?  

Draco wasn’t sure. He didn't think so, but he had to admit, he was currently pretty damn jealous of his father.  

“Please, Draco,” Hermione whimpered, her hips rocking, dragging him from his overactive mind with the slick slide of her cunt. “Make me come. I want you so much.”  

Draco blinked, temporarily lost in Hermione-Snape double vision. It took him a few seconds to see her alone. “I don’t want you to come right now,” he whispered back. “I want you wet . . . wetter than you’ve ever been in your entire life.” Stirring the nozzle in a small circle, he stimulated the walls of her rectum to emphasize his point. “I want you dripping all over me.”  

“Draaaaco,” she whinged. “I’m already there. I can’t get any wetter!”  

“Let’s see, shall we?” He pulled out halfway, and then plunged back in so her pussy squelched around him. “I don’t know . . . You sound _fairly_ wet, but I think you could be wetter.”  

“Stop saying wet like that; you’re making me mental!”  

“Shhhhh,” Draco snickered, massaging the tension from her back. “I’m not trying to make you mental. I just want you as turned on as possible. And preferably soaking my balls.”

“I’m there!”  

“They might be damp, but I’d hardly call them soaking. But have no fear—I’ll make sure you reach the proper saturation levels while you’re holding that water. You just relax and let me take care of everything.”  

She lifted her head and went still, as if she were suddenly deep in thought.  

“What is it, love?”  

“Do you want to take care of me, Draco?”  

He smiled and pecked her chin. “Of course I do.”  

“You don’t miss Nanny Granger?”  

Draco mashed his lips into a thoughtful line and gave her a single, half-reluctant nod. “I do. But I like this too. I like everything we do together.”  

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, and she tugged it back and forth with a ponderous nibble. “So, do you _like_ being in charge? Would you prefer things were more . . . _even_ between us?”  

“Now, just hold on a second. I feel like you’re making some synaptic leaps without me. I _love_ the way we play. I don’t need things to be even; I just need them to be right for us.” He glanced over her shoulder to make sure Lucius and Severus couldn’t hear what was being said, but those two were so wrapped up in their snog battle he doubted they knew anyone else was in the room. “I don’t want you to think you have to be any certain way to turn me on. I love Nanny Granger, but I love this side of you too. I love _all_ the different sides of you.”  

Her pink mouth spread in a soft smile. “So you like it when I’m Lucius’s princess?”  

He grinned. “How could I not love Princess Hermione? What wizard doesn’t like to see a witch covered in jewels?”  

“What about when I’m Snape’s little girl?”  

His grin widened. “She’s my favorite after Nanny Granger. Little Hermione can play with me any time.”  

Hermione rested her cheek on his shoulder and sighed against his neck. “I love all the sides of you too, Draco. And thank you so much for taking care of me this week.”  

Turning, he kissed her head—and then gave the nozzle another wiggle to keep her from lingering on any morose thoughts about the Prophet _._ “If you want the truth, I loved it. I mean, it’s awful about the article, and I wish that part hadn’t happened, but . . . I liked being your hero. It felt good to be strong for you.”  

“You’re always strong for me.”  

“Please,” he muttered dismissively. “I cry more than anyone in the whole house. Including you.”  

“So?”  

Draco didn’t answer. He could tell by her tone she was ready to argue, and he didn’t want her in an arguing mood.  

“Sometimes, the greatest strength is found in softness,” she said, trailing her index finger over his heart. “A raindrop might seem weak, but give it enough time, and it can erode the hardest stone.”  

Draco couldn’t help smiling. Trust Hermione to get all philosophical in the middle of sex. “Okay, okay, you win. It’s possible to be soft-strong.”  

“Your cock is kind of soft-strong too,” she said, grinding along his length to prove her point. “Hard on the inside, but soooo soft on the outside—like velvet satin.”  

He snorted. “Is that what you’re thinking when you’re licking my dick?”

“Sometimes,” she said with a shrug. “Mostly I’m thinking, ‘ _Mmmmmmmmm_.’”  

“What a coincidence; that’s the same thing I think when I’m eating _you_.”  

Severus appeared over her shoulder, and he wrapped his fingers around Draco’s to grasp the nozzle. “What are you thinking when you’re sucking _my_ cock?”   

He looked right at Draco when he asked, as if the question were aimed at him; and Draco couldn't help but picture himself in bed with Snape, his mouth overflowing with Potions master meat.  

Hermione snickered and peeked back at Snape. “Usually I’m reviewing remedies for lock-jaw.”

Lucius seemed to find that hilarious. Draco was amused as well but too concerned to laugh. Should he start some sort of stretching regime to avoid any discomfort in the future? That thing looked like a real bone-breaker.  

“I have a recipe for a muscle warming salve,” Severus told her. “Lucius used to find it quite helpful.”

“The ache is always worth it,” she assured him with a cheeky leer. “I regret nothing!”  

Chuckling low in his throat, Severus bent down to kiss her back. “I suspected as much.” His fingers drifted over Draco’s, soft as a breeze, and he gently twisted the nozzle. “The bag is empty, love. Are you ready for me to remove this?”  

“Go slow, okay? I’m really full. I think Draco’s cock is cutting into my storage space.”  

“Would you like the sparkly plug?”  

She groaned, whether from arousal or fear, Draco couldn’t tell. “Yes, sir.”

Snape paused the extraction process to give the back of her head a reproving glare. “Sir?”  

Grunting, she leaned forward a little to get things moving again. “I mean, yes, Daddy.”  

“That’s better.” He steadily drew out the nozzle, and Draco felt it through her thin barrier, wisping along the underside of his erection until it disappeared.  

“I’ve got the plug,” Lucius told Snape. “Does she need more lube?”

“Not yet. Just slick the plug and it should slide right in.”  

Hermione gave Draco a giddy grin and lifted her arse, presenting her bum with such eagerness he almost popped out of her.  

Her mouth formed a small _Oh!_ of surprise and she tried to take him back in, but Lucius grabbed her hip to keep her in place.   

“Uh, uh, uh!” Lucius scolded sweetly. “No wiggling till I’m finished with you. This is delicate business.”  

He must have started to insert the plug then, because she closed her eyes and inhaled half the air in the room through her nose. Draco took that as his cue to escape. While he would love to stay inside her for the rest of the night, eternal fucking wasn’t on the itinerary. There was licking to be done, and it was Draco’s job to get her ready for what lay ahead. They needed her pliant and calm.  

Reaching down, he pulled himself from her twitching introitus, and her eyes snapped open, a noise of forlorn disagreement buzzing through her sealed lips. Draco just smiled and gave her clit a good helmet buffing. That always distracted her.  

And his distraction proved successful . . . until the plug reached its widest point. Then her face became rather tense.  

“That’s it,” Lucius murmured. “Just breathe.”  

She roared instead. Which, technically, was breathing.

As soon as the plug slid into place, the room descended into silence. Or at least Draco assumed it was silent; his ears were still ringing from the roar.

“Are you all right, love?” Lucius asked. “I didn’t feel any resistance. You were ready for the whole thing, weren’t you?”  

“Yes,” she panted, eyes still closed. “Just really full. Gonna explode.”  

Shaking with silent laughter, Lucius ran his hand down her back and stroked her bum. “I understand. But I assure you you’re not going to explode. Would you like me to enlarge the plug to make sure nothing leaks out?”  

“Uuuuunnngh!” She dropped her head to Draco’s shoulder and rolled it back and forth in a mad tumble of cranium and hair. “Yes! I want it bigger! Just give me a second.”  

Draco kissed her ear and neck, whispering a soothing refrain of reassurance and love to help her relax. He had no idea what his father was doing, but from the way she was sighing and moaning, he could tell it was something she enjoyed. Probably something involving her arse.  

“Okay,” she mumbled. “I’m ready.”   Lucius tapped the base of her plug, and it expanded inside her, which dialed her back up to full volume.  

“There you go,” Lucius murmured. “Just a little wait now. Severus says there’s only seven minutes left. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

“Mmmmmmm.”  

Draco wasn’t sure if that was yes or no. “You want to lie on your back and get comfortable?”  

“I don’t know,” she groaned. "I don't know if I can move." 

“I’d like to lick your pussy if you’re up for it. You smell so fucking good. It’s like somebody’s baking biscuits in here. I’m starving.” 

That got her giggling. “Do you promise not to tease? I really need to come.”  

“No more teasing. It’s time for you to soak the bed.”  

“I hope you mean with squirting, because I’m seriously worried this plug is going to pop out of me like a cork and I’m gonna blast the whole room.”  

Stifling his snort, Draco held her close and began to roll to the side. “I’ll help you keep in the plug. The only thing drenching this bed will be your sweet little pussy.”  

Hermione held her swollen abdomen as he eased her into place against the pillows. She looked pregnant, which, for a split second, stopped his heart. He hadn’t mentioned anything about babies or voiced his growing list of questions concerning the matter; she’d been so busy with the foundation, and then the drama with Prophet had happened. There just hadn’t been a good time.  

Maybe when things settled down, he’d get her alone and find out how she felt about children. If she wanted to keep working while he stayed at home, he’d be fine with that. Although, with all four of them around, surely childcare wouldn’t be an issue.  

“Just lie back,” he said after one last peck on the lips. “Keep those legs open for me.”  

With the backs of his fingers, he grazed the inside of her knee and drew a swizzled trail all the way up her thigh. When he got to her pussy, she let her legs fall open and her eyes fall closed.  

“That’s it. Nice and relaxed,” he purred, slipping two fingers into her heat. She was a bit stretched from the fucking, but as soon as he tickled her front wall, her tunnel snapped around him like a Venus flytrap, and her moan swerved to a needy grunt.  

“Don’t be quiet,” Draco chided. “We all want to hear you. Open your mouth, love.”  

Peeking through her lashes, she smiled, face pink, but she did as he asked, her lips parting just enough to show the wet shine of her tongue.  

Gods, he wanted to stick something in there. Maybe a finger. Or better yet, his cock.  

But there would be plenty of that later, wouldn’t there.

“Good girl. Now let’s put the first coat of cream on these sheets. And don’t you dare forget to scream for me. As loud as you can. Let it all out. I want to hear how hard you’re coming.”  

Her eyes flickered gold, and she growled in her throat—his queen of the jungle.  

Draco kissed his way down her body, unable to resist spending some extra time on her water baby. He could play pretend if he damn well pleased; nobody had to know what he thinking.  

Moving lower, he cleared a path through her bush, kissing the curve of her mons—the most sacred mound he knew. Her outer labia had pulled open, and the pink petals within glistened like a juicy secret.  

Bowing his head, Draco touched his tongue to her dewy folds and gently lapped up the honey spilling from her core. The salty sweetness skipped across his taste buds like fairy dust, light and sparkly with her magic.   

“Unh! Fuck!”   

Encouraged by her response, Draco quickly lapped her clean and then dipped into her slick cove. He pressed the tips of his fingers against her soft walls and, curling around her pubic bone, mercilessly dug into the raised ridges of her g-spot.  

Her leg shot out in a spasm of pleasure, and she shouted—just a short “UH!” that spoke volumes.  

Draco answered by sealing his mouth around her clit and swiping his tongue back and forth over its engorged head. He was getting her from all angles, front and back, inside and out; if she didn’t come in the next minute he’d be shocked.   

But just to be sure, he went for her failsafe.  

Moving his other hand to her arse, he pressed his thumb against the plug and jiggled it vigorously, wracking her rectum with vibration and pressure. She cried out and tore at his hair, but Draco wasn’t about to be distracted by a little scalping.  

Lifting up hard, he pummeled her g-spot with an intensity that might have frightened away a first time squirter, but he knew exactly how rough she liked it, and he knew she was about to blow.  

The muscles in her cunny stuttered around his fingers, and he could swear a bolt of hot energy shot up his arm. Merlin, Circe, and Morgana. She was going to blast him off the bed. And possibly out into the hall.  

Her body went rigid, and the keening grew to a deafening roar. He’d been hoping to hear his name, a shout of praise for his efforts, but primal screaming was _so_ much better. His cock certainly liked it.  

The best part, though, was that Lucius and Severus were there to hear it. He knew they’d designated him the primary pussy licker in an attempt to appease him. They were saving the “important jobs” for themselves. Muff diving was just a warm up.

But the thing about Hermione was she didn’t have a pre-heat setting. Just various levels of scalding.  

If they thought the orgasms before the actual sex would siphon off some of the pressure, they’d been fooling themselves. Like a forest fire, her passion grew on itself, feeding its own flames and consuming all by-standers.  

Good thing that pussy was wet enough to keep him from burning alive.  

Her inner muscles began to pulse like a heartbeat, and Draco squinched his eyes shut, preparing for the explosion. Just in time apparently. The hard spray of her climax hit his chin like a water cannon. He wanted to drink her up, fill himself with her lust, but he didn’t dare leave her clit.  

Not when she was screaming like that.  

Her yell crackled with a burst of power as she peaked, and several short, gasping shouts followed each spurt. He might not hear right for a week.  

Eventually she ran out of air—and juice—and Draco eased off all stimulation as she trickled to a stop. 

Except her clit. She liked to be licked through her aftershocks, and he didn’t want to disappoint.  

“Well, that was impressive,” Severus drawled from somewhere behind him. “I had no idea our little girl had such big lungs.”  

“Makes a sonorous seem rather redundant,” Lucius commented.  

Hermione panted out a tired giggle and petted Draco’s head. “Was that loud enough for you?” she rasped. “Damn. I think I need a lozenge. My throat feels like gravel.”  

“I’m sure we’ll find something to coat it with,” Severus replied thoughtfully. “Something warm and thick. Can you think of anything, Lucius?”  

“It’ll come to me,” Lucius quipped. 

Severus snorted. “Are you ready to let out that water, love? We’re not done with you just yet.”  

“Of course I’m ready to let out the water,” she groused. “I feel like a fucking houseboat.”  

“Can you get her up, Draco?”  

Draco hummed a low, “Mm-hm,” into her snatch.  

Hermione shivered. “Stop that! You’re making my clit barmy.” She tugged on his hair to drag him away. “Come up here.”  

Draco crawled up to her face, his chin dripping with the remnants of her desire. Sticking out his tongue, he tried to lick himself clean, but it was impossible to reach.  

Hermione laughed and dragged him down, lapping it up for him.  

“Told you I’d get you wetter than you’ve ever been,” Draco said smugly.  

“I never doubted you for an instant.”  

“Are you nice and relaxed now?”  

“I will be once I let out all this water.”  

“Understandable. But you’re calm now, right? I did a good job as the Relaxation Coach?”  

Beaming brightly, she nodded. “You were outstanding. I feel very loose and flowy. Not anxious at all.”  

Draco leaned even closer and put his lips to her ear. “That’s good. Because you’re going to need to be as loose as possible for what Severus has planned.”  

“What does Severus have planned?”  

Lifting his head, Draco let his lips curl into the slyest of smiles. “Something that will make you forget this hellacious week ever even happened.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chorus—The chorus can be either the part of the song that is repeated after each verse (the refrain) or a large group of singers.
> 
> “Glory” by Liz Phair. Written by Liz Phair and released in 1993 on her debut album Exile in Guyville (one of my favorite albums of all time). (Side note for those interested: there was a 25th Anniversary release of the album this past year and a box set that has all of Liz’s early recordings. Look up Girly Sounds to Guyville.)  
> There is no video for this song, but somebody did a claymation thing with the recording over it, so I went with that. https://vimeo.com/115017397


	60. Quartet

60—Quartet

“Say what you wanna say, and let the words fall out. Honestly, I wanna see you be brave.”—Sara Bareilles

(Severus) 

Placing a hand on either side of her hips, Severus guided her back onto the bed and signaled to Lucius and Draco that everything had gone to plan in the loo. After releasing the water, she’d slipped into a blissfully receptive state—loose, willing, and calm. Precisely as he’d intended.

As she crawled across the bed, Severus met Lucius’s eye and, with a nod, gestured toward her glistening slit. _Are you seeing what I’m seeing?_

Lucius arched one blond brow and climbed up behind her, leaning in to inspect the lay of the land. “Are you feeling better now, princess?” He slid a hand over her derrière and pulled one cheek to the side. “Mm! It appears you are.”

Hermione smiled and backed into his touch. “I feel bloody amazing. Is it time for buggering now? Severus only gives me an enema when someone’s going to fuck my arse. Is that what you had in mind?”

Malfoy looked back at him. ‘ _Are you going to tell her, or shall I?’_

Severus shook his head. _Let’s make it a surprise_. “I thought you just told me your pussy was too empty, now at the mere mention of your arse, you’re ready to switch allegiance.”

Arching her back, she dropped her chest to the bed and gave him a x-rated view of her sex. “There’s plenty to go around. Can’t they both have fun?”

“Hmmmmm, that’s exactly what we were thinking,” Severus drawled.

Climbing up the bed, he approached her with a patience and grace that belied his true desperation. He’d missed being inside her that week, missed her little kitten moans and roaring shouts, missed her warm adoration and searing passion. But it was more than the lack of sex. Things felt “off” in general. 

Skewed.

The disorientation might have been due to the Prophet’s article, but Severus didn’t really believe that. It was something more, something deeper. The disruption to their normal routine had knocked a cog loose, and he wasn’t sure which piece needed repair. Was it her or them? Should he try to fix it or let it run its course? And if he did want to fix it, how could he without first identifying the source of the problem? 

He’d been trying to pinpoint the root of their disfunction by testing various solutions. If tranquility counteracted the disconnection, then he’d know the question involved either her emotional state or their own, which seemed like the most logical place to start.

Except his attempts to keep the intimacy as tranquil as possible hadn’t been working for any of them. Hermione was miserable, Lucius was lashing out, Draco’s forehead was creased with a permanent line of worry, and Severus couldn’t think straight. Doing any meaningful work in the lab was completely out of the question. There were combustible ingredients down there, and he didn’t want to blow up the dungeons. Lucius wouldn’t like that.

They needed to set things right. For everyone involved. Before everything came crashing down around them.

And if Hermione thought sex was the cure for what ailed them, he’d be her all-night chemist. He had a cock full of miracle elixir, and he intended to give her a clean bill of health before the weekend ended.

Snaking his hand around her waist, Snape dragged her into the middle of the bed and, with boa constrictor-like coiling, held her to him as he rolled to his back.

“Severus!” she shrieked, but then burst into riotous laughter, which obliterated any hint of indignation. “What’re you doing? I thought you were going to— OH!”

He dipped in and out of her folds a few times, wetting himself in her arousal, but without the use of his hands, he couldn’t quite align himself with her arse.

“Allow me,” Lucius purred, his vocal register dropping to it’s silkiest tones.

Apparently Severus wasn’t the only one with a prescription for sexual healing.

Malfoy grabbed the lube off the table and crawled toward her pussy, a devilish gleam in his eye. When he began to unscrew the jar, Hermione’s hips bounced in an excited jig, and Severus had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. That arse of hers was insatiable. 

Gripping his shaft in a slick fist, Lucius coated Snape’s entire length in warm oil—his attention far more glans-centric than Severus thought necessary. Once he had Severus gleaming like a new Knut, he greased Hermione’s backdoor and slipped his thumb into her keyhole, no doubt buttering her tract to a high shine. As soon as she whimpered for more, he popped out and brought the tip of Snape’s cock to her pucker. 

Her sphincter opened to him without hesitation, drawing him in before he could knock. Severus eased through her tight gateway and sank into her bum, where it was at least twenty degrees warmer—than the sun. Holy fucking hell! Had he forgotten how hot her arsehole was, or had he simply lost his protective genital tan during the week? His skin felt overly sensitive—perhaps because it had been given time to heal from the last searing romp—and he hissed as another inch of his manhood disappeared into her kiln.

“Sweet mother of Merlin,” Lucius muttered to himself. “This is . . . breathtaking. You’ve got to see this, Severus.”

“Put up the mirrors,” Severus grunted through his clenched teeth. “I want her to watch.”

The corners of Malfoy’s mouth curled in a impish grin. “As if I would make my princess a playroom without mirrored ceilings. What kind of man do you take me for?” 

Leaning over, he grabbed his wand off the bedside table and flicked it toward the sky. The white coffered ceiling dissolved to reveal a cluster of rectangular mirrors that had been centered over the bed in an almost cubist configuration. The lack of frames left the view completely unobscured, but the varying sizes and artful arrangement made Severus feel like the subject of a modern painting. Lucius had always had a knack for turning sex into art.

And Severus appreciated the view.

Grabbing Hermione by the backs of the legs, he spread her open so she could see the glistening red streak of her sex above the broad stroke of his flesh. Her eyes met his in the mirror, embers of gold flashing in the brown, like sparks shooting off a burning branch. Her mouth opened, and he could tell she wanted to say something, but all that emerged was a jagged huff of excitement.

“Look how beautiful you are,” Severus murmured, pressing a kiss to her fevered temple. “You’re glowing.”

A breathy gasp skipped over her lips.

“And your pussy is positively luminescent. Is it enjoying the show?”

She nodded, barely moving, her eyes locked on the slow in and out reflected above them.

His eyes shifted to Lucius, who appeared equally awestruck by the sight. “Do you recall the first time we had her spread out like this?”

Lucius smiled. “How could I forget? You had her in this exact position.” Reaching out, he touched her clit, tracing its crimson peak in a gentle circle, his remaining fingers drifting along Snape’s length. “And it’s just as stunning now as it was then. Perhaps more so.”

“Would you care to join us?”

“You know I would. I’ve said as much on multiple occasions.”

Severus put his lips to her ear and let his question drift across her skin, “What do you say, love? I know you’re curious. Is tonight the night?”

Her rate of respiration hit a frantic high, her breasts quivering as they rose and fell. With a small nod, she consented—and then, somehow, unhinged her hips and spread her legs even wider.

Severus smiled at the wanton display. “That’s it, baby girl, just let go. We’ve got you.”

They’d discussed how they would take her, so there was no awkward fumbling or debate over who would go where. Lucius got to his knees and, placing a hand to her hip for balance, guided himself to her opening. In an attempt to provide Malfoy with adequate room for his grand entrance, Severus drew back until only his head remained inside.

Hermione’s gaze locked on the mirror, her focus on her pussy. Severus kept his eyes on the mirror as well, but he was watching her face. Peripherally, he saw Lucius move—and then felt him sliding along the opposite side of her thin wall. Malfoy’s thighs bumped Snape’s, and the soft weight of his sac hovered above his own. Such a familiar sensation. If he’d been alone with Lucius he might not have noticed it at all; but with her between them, everything felt different. New. It was like being a teenager again.

Minus the acne and bullies. Plus all the pussy and cock he could ask for. Which was pretty sweet.

Almost as sweet as that look on her face.

Hermione’s mouth had frozen in a silent “O”, and the deeper Lucius went, the longer that “O” became. Her chin fell to her chest, and her breath rattled past her lips in a shocked wheeze, but otherwise, she remained silent.

Until Severus drove all the sound out of her with his counter thrust.

“Uuuuuuuuunghhhh!” Her ribcage arced sharply, and her eyes fluttered shut, rolling beneath her eyelids as if she were possessed by the pleasure.

Severus pulled out as Lucius went in, slow and steady, filling her one at a time. Severus in, Lucius out. Lucius in, Severus out. 

Malfoy’s lip curled in an animal snarl, and every exhalation rumbled with a growl. Severus had to concur. It felt as if he’d dipped his dick into some kind of bacchanalian wilderness, a primordial jungle where his control and intelligence meant nothing. 

And where logic left off, instinct reigned; and that instinct brought with it an unexpected insight.

He could look into her eyes and read her desires like a book, but under all the _yes, sirs_ and princess panties lay a powerhouse of untamed energy. Her primal essence crept around his cock, watching, waiting. Waiting for what, he didn’t know, but every hair on the back of his neck stood at attention, as if he were being hunted. A shiver of adrenaline surged through his body.

Draco slinked into view, all pale skin and gleaming white hair. Something in Severus reached out to him, but he didn’t think it wise to let go of Hermione. Luckily, Draco took matters into his own hand, brushing his fingers along both their arms. As soon as Draco's skin touched his, a frisson of excitement sent Snape’s stomach soaring

When he caught his breath, the heart-pounding adrenaline he’d felt before was gone; Hermione’s arse was no longer prowling, ready to attack. It had settled to a contented purr.

But he knew that purr came from place of raw intensity and untapped strength. Something inside her wanted out, and Severus wasn’t sure what that something was or what it would do if set free. 

Yet something inside _him_ wanted to pick its lock. Was he being foolhardy? What if it was something destructive? What if it hurt her? Or them?

He watched in the mirror as her upper body jolted in a series of pre-orgasmic convulsions. When Draco placed his hand over her chest, all the air rushed out of her in a loud, “Huhhh!”

“Are you close, love?” Draco trailed his fingertips around her nipple and smiled when she levitated toward his hand. “You look a little tense.”

With absolutely no warning, her face crumpled, the wobbling of her lower lip so strong it looked as if her teeth were chattering. Severus couldn’t imagine anything destructive residing in a witch that sensitive. Whatever he’d felt earlier might have been wild, but it wasn’t out for blood.

“I didn’t mean it,” Draco backtracked nervously. “You don’t look tense at all; you look totally relaxed. Relaaaaaaaxed.”

A smile sprang up behind her tears, and when she opened her eyes, they flickered with metallic gold light. Momentarily mesmerized, Severus paused in his thrusting. 

He saw a flash of happiness—the four of them together, laughing, brimming with affection—and at first he thought it was an unintentional detour into her mind. Accidental Legilimency was fairly common in sexual situations; there were so many connections and emotions it was hard to avoid. But then he realized the image had sprung from his _own_ mind. In a dream. He couldn’t remember what else had happened, or why they’d been laughing, but he remembered the moment and the feeling that accompanied it with absolute clarity.

Warmth flooded his stomach, soft and tingling, and a fuzzy feeling settled in his heart. It was almost as if her furball of a cat had climbed atop his chest and curled up for a nap; but instead of Kneazle-scented weight, it was more like a happy memory he’d suddenly recalled, or an old friend he’d forgotten existed. Joyful but peaceful. 

And in that peace all his fears faded. “Hermione?”

She responded by raising a hand over her shoulder to touch his cheek.

His flesh seemed to expand beneath her fingers, as if it didn’t understand the laws of physics. Much like his fuzzy heart. “Would you find it insincere if a man declared his love for a woman whilst buried in her arse?”

Lucius froze mid-stroke, his eyes flying open. 

The room went still.

“What did you say?” Hermione whispered.

The buzzing in his chest pulsed in time with his pounding heart. It knew what was coming—and it approved. “I think I just indirectly told you I love you. And now I’ve gone and done it again. This is harder than I imagined.”

He felt foolish—unprepared—yet he’d also never felt such freedom. Verbal ecstasy danced on the tip of his tongue.

“You fink,” Lucius declared with a growing smile. “You told me you couldn’t say it!”

“I _haven’t_ said it."

“Well, how am _I_ supposed to say it now? You’ve made me the last place finisher. It’s going look as if I was the most reluctant to say it when I was just waiting for you to get used to the idea.”

“I haven’t said anything! If it’s that important to you, you go first.”

“Right now? While we’re both balls deep inside her? How romantic.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m only tip deep.”

Hermione burst out laughing, but beneath it lay a sob, and she wavered between the two with lunatic fluidity.

They all went for her at once, attempting to soothe her with hugs and kisses—hands everywhere, a tangle of touch.

“We didn’t mean all that,” Lucius assured her. “I just wanted the moment to be special. You know how much I like a good presentation.”

She nodded, her laugh-sob descending into deranged cackling

“Shhhh,” Draco crooned. “It’s all right. You can laugh or cry all you like, but it might be good if you picked one or the other so you could breathe a little.”

She nodded again, unable to stop.

Severus met Lucius’s eye and cocked one brow. _Go on. Say it. It’s what she needs to hear._

Malfoy held his gaze for a second longer, assuring himself of Snape’s sincerity, and when he saw the truth—that Severus honestly wanted this for him—his body sank in relief. Reaching out, Lucius cupped her face in both hands and wiped away her tears with the edges of his thumbs. “I was a fool not to tell you sooner. It’s been eating at me for ages. I love you.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he stopped to take a deep breath. “I love you more than I can say.”

Severus smiled. It felt as though the room had filled with helium and laughing gas; gravity lost a little of its hold. The weightlessness added to the booming buzz of his heartbeat, and his tongue tingled with pressure. The words were out before he could second-guess them. “I love you too. Or three. I don’t mind being last this time. Better third than never.”

Her laughter faded to tears, and she chuffed out a few final hiccups before trying to speak. “I . . . I love all three of you s-so much.” Her fingers ran down his face again. “Love you, Severus.” She lifted her other hand toward Malfoy, and he leaned down to press a kiss to her palm. “Love you, Lucius.” Turning her head, she smiled at Draco. “Love you, Draco.”

Draco smoothed a hand over her breast. “Are you okay now? You want a tissue?”

She sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Yeah.”

“I’ve got it,” Severus murmured. He released her leg and swiped his hand across her face, vanishing the mucus with a silent incantation.

Hermione breathed in a rush of air and let it out in a whoosh, the sound deep and lush. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I think my heart just exploded,” she said, her expression dazed. When Draco placed his hand to her chest, as if he could hold her heart together, she grinned. “In a good way, I promise.”

Draco leaned in and touched his lips to hers. “Looks like you were right,” he whispered. “The whole damn house is in love with you. You think you can handle three maladjusted Slytherins _on top_ of running a foundation _and_ a public scandal?”

Severus wanted to smack him upside the head for mentioning the Prophet, but Hermione just laughed and laughed.

“Don’t see why not—I’ve handled you this long. And you know those three Slytherins are the glue that holds me together.” 

Draco kissed her again, softly—but lingering long enough to make Lucius glare. When he pulled back, his lips were pink and wet, and Snape’s cock responded in a rather crude manner. Which was to be expected. It had the same reaction when they kissed goodnight. Or touched. Or looked at each other.

Merlin’s balls! Was everyone in the manor a human aphrodisiac for him?

Grinning, Draco nuzzled her nose. “Now that we’re all on the same page . . . what _are_ you going to do with a triplicate of wizards who love you more than life itself—and who are _very_ hard and ready to come?”

Hermione threw back her head, laughing so hard her arse spasmed around his cock. Lucius gave her pussy a gentle nudge, and her giggling bottomed out in a low moan. “I want all of you,” she panted. “Together. Inside me. Is that too much?”

“Your desires are never too much,” Severus cut in. “They’re absolute perfection.”

Draco smiled in agreement. “Kinky perfection.”

Severus curled his hips and gave her another inch to reminded her just how kinky. “Would you like to taste Draco?” he whispered. “We all know how much you love a mouthful of cock when you’re coming.” 

Her face lit with excitement, but when she tried to lift her head, she didn’t get very far. “How am I going to reach?”

“We’ve got that covered. Show her, Draco.” 

Draco climbed to his knees, and Severus extended his arm so he could get closer. With one knee against his ribs and the other nestled above his shoulder, Draco straddled his arm to get within sucking range.

Growling with glee, Hermione stuck out her tongue and licked his tip. “Are you going to provide the thrusting? I can only move my head a little.”

Draco nodded. “Just push me away if I get too deep.”

“Okay. I’m ready.” She opened her mouth wide, but then shut it to say, “You’re all going to come inside me, right? No pulling out. I want to be stuck to the bed in the morning. I’m dead serious.”

Lucius withdrew and then slid back in, his smile one of sheer delight. “You’ll be dripping in it, princess. Every hole. We promise.” His fingers wandered to her hips and he grazed her flanks, following the curve of her leg until he had a calf in either hand. Bringing her legs around his hips, he locked her in place and then trailed his fingers up to her mound, where he spread her lips to expose her swollen clitoris.

Before Malfoy’s finger could even make contact, her pelvis spasmed, and both Severus and Lucius hissed as her muscles wrenched around them like a vice.

“That’s it, princess,” Lucius murmured. “Let your body take control. Don’t hold back.”

Eyes wide, she nodded, her mouth falling open in a ragged exhale. Seizing the opportunity, Draco placed a hand on her cheek and guided his erection into her waiting mouth. 

At such close proximity, the meaty musk of male lust slammed Severus in the nose like a concrete cauldron, and he couldn’t help imagining Draco spread out before him, his cock melting in Snape’s mouth like butterscotch.

His bollocks declared their fondness for butterscotch Draco by heading north.

 _No! Too much. One at a time_.

Turning, he hid face in Hermione’s hair so his traitorous nose wouldn’t be his undoing. While Hermione’s hair was no less of a turn-on, at least he wasn’t being bombarded by every pheromone in the room.

Severus and Lucius resumed their previous pace, and as her sphincter relaxed, so did Severus. It took some time, and a little vocal coercion, but eventually she settled into a humming ball of warm energy, pliable and loose between them, her moans rolling out around Draco’s dick.

Lucius answered her moan with several of his own. His were lower though, the sound resonating from his belly. Or possibly his balls. As he swayed to the gentle rhythm of their fucking, the muscles of his abdomen flexed into a rictus of sculptured control. Every move a work of art. Severus liked that about Lucius. The precision. The willpower. 

And yet he embodied the complete opposite as well—indulgence and sensuality.

Malfoy peered down at them with a smile that bordered on a snarl, conveying both passion and love in equal measure. He wasn’t all sneers and aristocratic pomp; there was a heart there for those cared to look. His desire had meaning. With Lucius, sex was never just sex. 

But it _was_ his preferred mode of communication. That and money.

 _But look at him now. Not a_ _G_ _alleon in sight . . . and yet still he smiles._ An unfamiliar buoyancy pulled at his cheeks, tugging his features into a visage of rapture. This was Lucius in love. The veil of shadows he’d worn since Narcissa’s death had been lifted, and life filled his eyes once more.

Severus lifted his gaze to the mirror above him, wondering if he too had been revitalized by their declaration. Whilst he detected no physical alterations, there was no doubt he _felt_ different. The tingling energy that had coursed through his veins still lingered, painting everything he saw into vivid detail.

The bed pulsed behind him, blinding in its whiteness. Hermione’s skin throbbed with pink pleasure, mesmerizing in its multidimensional translucence. And Draco seemed to sparkle, the love oozing from his skin like etheric glitter.

But Severus knew nothing had really changed—nothing except his own perception. The world had always held this magic; he just hadn’t been able to see it.

Gliding his hand along her chest, he traveled up to her chin and skimmed her cheek. Inside, her tongue moved, her mouth working as she sucked Draco. Severus stroked the hinge of her jaw and lightly massaged the muscles running down her neck. “So beautiful. So sexy. So . . . orally agile. What _are_ you trying to do to Draco? You know you’re not part python, don’t you? You can’t swallow him whole.”

She made a noise, but whether it was confirmation or disagreement remained to be seen. 

“What was that, love? You want us to make you come now? You need it deeper?”

Her eyes popped open as he abandoned the set rhythm to impale her in tandem with Lucius. He didn’t go all the way in—just far enough to see if she enjoyed the stretch.

“Severus,” Malfoy growled in a threatening tone. “That wasn’t fair. You have to warn me first.”

“That _was_ your warning. Next time I’m going in all the way.”

“Merlin’s beard,” Lucius muttered under his breath. “Give me a second.” He widened his knees slightly, bracing himself. “You ready to try that again, princess? It’s a tight fit.”

She made an impatient noise around Draco and wiggled her hips for more.

“You heard the lady,” Severus smirked. “Give her what she wants.”

Closing his eyes, Lucius shifted forward, easing into her as far as he could. Severus attempted to do the same, but it felt as if he were tying to stuff an anaconda into a garden hose. There didn’t seem to be any more available room—yet, as if by magic, his cock continued to disappear.

There was a point where he sensed he’d reached her limit, and she confirmed his suspicions with a keening wail. Lucius gave her the smallest of nudges, moving maybe a millimeter in and out, and Hermione began to sob. But there were no tears. Just muffled cries of desperate longing. She grabbed Snape’s hip, sinking her nails into his flesh, and a thunderbolt of passion shot through his heart.

Lucius continued to play her pussy, barely rocking, mostly just breathing, but he must have felt the rush of impending release, because his digital stimulation went from lax to determined

“Uuuuunnnghhh!” Her entire body trembled, and her back jerked in several quick spasms that seemed to proclaim: The end is nigh.

“Fuuuuuck,” Draco grunted through his teeth. “You’re gonna— Aaaaaaah!”

They fell like dominoes. Hermione’s innate need to suck her way through orgasm dragged Draco over the edge, and her rampaging pussy took Lucius down with one swift squeeze. Severus was only seconds behind him. That arse showed no mercy.

A cacophony of moans and groans filled the room—heavy breathing and hissing layered atop a constant loop of stifled wailing. Draco finished with a shudder and dragged himself from her mouth so she could breathe, and without him there to muffle her shouts, her cries filled the room at full throttle.

Hermione writhed atop him, her howling almost mournful. But Severus could feel the energy radiating off her like an electrical storm. There was no sorrow in the fitful bridge of her back or the craggy spikes of her nipples. Only resplendent power.

And Severus melded with that power, his cock pounding in time with every pulse.

He’d never felt more alive.

Needed.

Loved.

It wasn’t just Hermione. He felt it from Lucius and Draco as well. Everyone wanted him there. Just as he wanted them. And the euphoria of that unity tingled through every cell of his body.

When her shouts died to croaky panting and her muscles went slack, Severus drew his nose from her hair and breathed a sigh of relief, grateful he’d survived.

Lucius drooped, exhausted, and then slumped down for a kiss. “Was that as good as you imagined, princess?”

Hermione smiled and reached for him, but just as her hand brushed his lips, it went limp and collapsed against her chest, her head lolling to one side.

“Hermione,” Lucius said. When she didn’t answer, he patted her cheek. “You all right? Bloody hell. She’s passed out again.”

Draco ran his hand down her neck. “She feels feverish. Maybe we should cool her off.”

Severus slid his fingers around her neck and felt her pulse. “Heart rate is okay. But Draco’s right—we should cool her off; she’s on fire.”

Lucius gently pulled out, and Severus dragged himself from her arse as delicately as possible. Working as a team, they rolled her to the side, onto the cool sheets.

Draco went to the bathroom to get a wet flannel, and Lucius cast chilling charms on the bedding while Severus wandlessly conjured a breeze.

“Should we owl Veronique?” Lucius asked quietly.

“I don’t know; it doesn’t seem any different from last time. If she is ‘assimilating the magic’ as Veronique suspects, there’s nothing we can really do.” Severus combed back the frazzled hair framing her face so Draco could lay the rag on her forehead.

Hermione’s hand shot out, catching his wrist, and her eyelids snapped up like a window shade. Staring straight at him, her irises shone solid gold—the brown gone—and in a hypnotized monotone she said, “I’m okay.”  

Then her eyes closed, and she began to snore. 

They all stared at her in mute shock.

Extending his hand, Lucius cautiously prodded her thigh with the tips of his fingers. “What the hell was that?”

“I . . . I think she’s just asleep,” Severus replied.

“What should we do?”

Draco wiped off her face with the cold water, but she didn’t react to his touch at all, as if she were completely unconscious. “I think she’s trying to tell us it’s time to go to bed.”

Breathing out a reluctant chuckle, Severus affectionately stroked Draco’s head to thank him for lightening his mood. “I agree. Let’s take her back to the real bed and get some rest.”

Severus scooped her up and, with Lucius leading the way, carried her down the hall to Malfoy's room. They all got into the big bed as usual and then arranged her so she was sandwiched between him and Draco.

Reaching over, Lucius took her hand in his. “Are you sure she’s just sleeping?”

Severus propped a finger under her chin and tipped back her head, which restarted the snoring with comic immediacy. “Sounds like it. But I’ll wake up every couple hours to check on her.”

“Can you do that?”

Severus nodded and put out the lights with a wave of his hand. “I can’t sleep when I’m worried.” He found Lucius’s face in the darkness and kissed him. “I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

Lucius kissed him back, almost clinging. When he released him, it felt forced. "Night, Severus.”

“Goodnight.” Severus didn’t think Lucius would respond well to a conversation about how he was feeling, so he said nothing more, but beneath the covers he pressed his foot against Malfoy’s to keep the connection strong. 

Rubbing a hand over the back of Draco’s neck, Severus leaned over to kiss him too. “Night, Draco.”

Their lips bumped, seeking the right angle in the darkness. When they finally interlocked, the fit sent a stomach-flipping rush through his guts, and his knackered prick set about resurrecting itself. _For fuck’s sake, not now! I need sleep._

“Night, Severus. I . . .” Draco trailed off and sighed against his mouth. “Do you think we’re hurting her with all this?”

Severus frowned. “I honestly don’t know. I’ll restart my search in the library tomorrow. Perhaps I’ll find some mention of similar symptoms that will give us something to work with.”

“I’ll help you look.”

"Maybe you'd better spend your free time with Hermione. We’ve got two days to get her fit for another week of fighting.”

“’Kay.” The word stretched into a loud yawn, and Draco curled up behind Hermione, his hand on Snape’s chest next to hers.

Severus absently carded his fingers through Draco’s hair as he replayed that night’s finale and aftermath in his mind. There had to be some explanation for what happening to her—something more than speculation about magic semen or loose guesses concerning synchronistic arousal. He hoped Veronique was right, that the repercussions were enhancing Hermione’s life in some way. 

But in Snape’s experience, hope was a fickle bitch and an unreliable ally.

He wouldn't leave it _all_ in her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quartet—A group of four people singing or playing music together. (Originally the last chapter was titled Quartet: First Movement, and this one was the second movement. But I decided to go with more individual names in the end.)
> 
> “Brave” by Sara Bareilles. Written by Sara Bareilles and Jack Antonoff and released in 2013.  
> <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=QUQsqBqxoR4>


	61. Key Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next release will be two chapters, and they’re not terribly long, so I hope it doesn’t take forever. I’ll be back with more as soon as I can.

61—Key Change  


“Suddenly I see.”—KT Tunstall  


(Hermione)   


The air hung heavy with the dank smell of earth and stagnant water. Hermione squinted into the darkness, struggling to detect any movement. A echoey splash and a hollow _drip drip drip_ indicated a subterranean environment, and as her eyes adjusted to the low light, she detected the sparkle of quartz threading through the walls.   


A cave.   


The sound of rushing water called to her, drawing her through the inky blackness. Holding out her hands, she felt her way along the rough corridor. A dim light appeared in the distance, and she hurried toward it, eager for its illumination.  


It wavered, shimmering, and as she neared, she understood why. A waterfall covered the mouth of the cave like a curtain, and the light lay on the other side.  


Hermione extended her finger into the flowing fabric, sluicing through the water with ease. Not dangerous. Its warmth sent a thrill of excitement up her spine.  


Taking a deep breath, Hermione closed her eyes and stepped though the glittering deluge, tipping back her head to keep her hair from matting around her face. When she felt a breeze on her nose, she wiped the water from her eyes and peeked through her lashes.  


Fucking hell! A black and endless void stretched as far as the eye could see—an endless eternity of night—and the only thing that kept her from plunging into the unknown was the narrow ledge beneath her feet. Groping behind her for a handhold, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt another warm body. Hermione spun around, only to find Lucius leaning against the sheer rock wall as if he hadn’t a care in the world, a Cheshire smirk lighting his placid face.  


“Lucius! What on earth are you doing out here?“ She caught a glimmer of movement out of the corner of her eye and turned toward the waterfall.  


Draco emerged from the cascade like a blond Naiad, his hair and face sheeted in a layer of liquid so thick it looked as if he were encased in glass. He didn't seem to take much notice of it though.  


“Draco? Where did you come from? Are you all right?”  


Draco answered with a smile, silver rippling through his grey eyes.  


The wind whipped her wet hair into her face, and she spun toward the gust to keep her curls from blinding her. That was when she spotted Severus, his black attire darker than the night around them. Damn midnight camouflage! No wonder she hadn’t seen him before! He smiled kindly, and his usual harsh expression softened with love.  


Hermione was glad they were all together and unharmed, but the setting didn't fill her with confidence. “Let’s go back in the cave!” she shouted over the wind.  


Draco came toward her, shaking his head, an amused grin on his lips. Severus crossed to his side, and they all stood shoulder to shoulder, facing her.   


She was going to have to shove the whole lot of them through the waterfall to get them to safety. “Go back!”  


“We can’t,” Severus said calmly. “It’s too late. We have to go forward.”  


Hermione peered over her shoulder. “What forward?” She couldn’t even see the ground. “What do you mean?”  


As if choreographed, they simultaneously reached out and, in unison, lightly shoved her. Tripping backward, she stumbled off the ledge and fell into nothingness. Her stomach dropped like a stone, and her heart screeched to a halt. Too terrified to scream, she closed her eyes, unwilling to watch her own pulverization.  


The wind roared around her, and in it, Hermione heard Snape’s whisper. “Open you eyes.”  


Cautiously, she squinted through her lashes. The cliff had vanished. In its place a star-speckled night surrounded her on all sides, as if she’d been launched into outer space. On the telly, space travel looked so calm and peaceful, but in reality all she wanted to do was scream. There was no up or down, no resting point, no rules; and the vastness filled her with equal parts horror and awe.  


She lost herself in a sea of endless night like a grain of sand falling into the ocean. She’d never felt so alone. So insignificant. Where did she fit in amongst such immense majesty? Did she matter at all?  


Something brushed her hand, and she heard Lucius’s voice. “Open your eyes.”  


Her eyes _were_ open.   


Weren’t they?   


She blinked hard to make sure.   


They must not have been open before, because she suddenly found herself staring into the brightest light imaginable. It had to be the sun. Or _a_ sun. When barreling toward a gargantuan ball of flaming gas, one didn’t differentiate.  


People claimed that, when faced with death, a person’s life flashed before her eyes, but Hermione’s brain was strangely blank. Which was odd. Usually she couldn’t turn that thing off.  


Surprisingly, she felt a quiet sense of peace. There was no tomorrow to plan for, no work, nothing she had to do or be. The sun was coming whether she wanted it or not, and she found some relief in knowing it was completely out of her control.  


No control. What a strange concept. Control ruled her life. She had to be on top of things, stay ahead of the game, maintain order. Something always needed to be done. And she liked that. Goals gave her life direction. Wasn’t that point? To accomplish something? To help? To go from point A to point B?  


But what was there to do when one was speeding toward the sun? She couldn’t outthink her fate or argue that she wouldn’t burn. Solar flares didn’t care whether she had checked off her to-do list or not.  


She had no choice but to embrace the uncertainty.  


And that wasn’t something she’d ever really thought needed embracing. The wild unknown. It seemed so dangerous. So unsure.  


So not her.  


But now that she was staring down everything she’d been running from—failure, oblivion, a mysterious beyond she’d dismissed as illogical—she saw the beauty in the chaos. She’d been so blinded by the need to achieve, she’d never given abandon its due.  


Except during sex.  


And that was the thought her mind chose as she hurtled toward death.  


Sex. The one place where she’d stopped fighting and surrendered. Surrendered to passion. And pleasure. To her desires. She’d pleaded to be washed away on a tidal wave of sensation and feeling. Whether that feeling was love or romance or joy or just the longing to release all her pent up emotions in the most physical ways possible—it was all her. Hermione unleashed.  


Muffy had been trying to guide her home all along, to bring her back into balance. Life wasn’t all goals and outcomes. It was art, and music, and laughter. And touch. Souls touching souls. That couldn’t be found in a report or listed on a spreadsheet. It couldn’t be mapped on a chart. It had no beginning or end. There was no perfection to attain.  


No boundaries.  


Funny . . . she’d always relied on boundaries to provide her with a clear-cut path through life, but no one had ever told her of the freedom she might find if she gave up the path all together.  


But she guessed the sun was about to do that for her. The choice had been taken out of her hands.  


Closing her eyes, Hermione gave her life one last smile, grateful for all she’d been through, all the challenges she’d faced, all the people she’d loved, all the joy she’d experienced. And then she told the sun she was ready.  


The time had come. Her days of fighting were over. It was time to rest.  


A hand slid across her breast, the fingers brushing her nipple, sending a shiver of electricity through her core. She’d know that hand anywhere, that touch. Draco’s palm slid over her heart, and the heat of the sun was inside her.  


“Open your eyes,” he whispered.  


Her eyes snapped open, and it took Hermione a few seconds to realize the alien planet before her was actually an extreme closeup of Snape’s nipple.   


Oh thank Merlin! Just a dream! Lucius was right across from her, his head on Snape’s shoulder, his hand holding hers. And Draco was pressed to her back, his arm around her waist, hand cupping her breast. Everything was as it should be.  


Except she was hot as Hades and covered in sweat. Why was it so damn hot?  


And why did everything look so strange? She blinked a few times and lifted her head. Even in the dark, the room appeared abnormally detailed, as if she’d put on Harry’s glasses and they’d pushed her beyond 20/20 vision. And beneath the layer of sweat, her skin prickled with hyper-sensitivity. She could actually feel Draco’s heart pounding against her back like a lethargic bass drum.  


And Snape’s heart—fucking hell! She could hear it as if she had a stethoscope in her ears.   


Her fingers twitched, brushing over Lucius’s, and she noticed the soft hiss of skin on skin was more like the loud shush of paper on paper. What the hell was happening?  


She could smell more too. There were no _strange_ smells, just the normal ones magnified. The crisp scent of the sheets. The cold wood of the bed. The metallic dampness of water in the bathroom. And Lucius. And Severus. And Draco. She could smell them all as if she had her nose buried in their balls. Had she become part-canine during the night?  


The pre-light of approaching dawn slipped over the horizon, and the grey glow was enough to light up the room like a lantern for her. Was she delirious? Did she have a fever? That made sense. Sort of. It explained the sweat and the surreal quality of her surroundings, but she’d never heard of super-sniffers and extraordinary ears accompanying a fever.  


“You all right?” Severus croaked, his voice hoarse with sleep.  


Despite her bizarre heightened senses and the unbearable heat, she felt fine. Nodding, she turned to look at him and found herself struck dumb by his sleepy stare. That black gaze sucked her into its depths, tumbling her through its shadows until she couldn’t tell which way was up.  


Severus took his hand off Lucius's thigh and cupped her cheek. "What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing,” she breathed. In her mind’s eye, she saw him watching her while she slept . . . carrying her to the bed . . . worrying about her. “I . . . I’m really hot, and everything looks strange.”  


Suddenly more alert, he pressed his hand to her forehead. “You’re sweating. And what do you mean by strange?”  


“I don’t know.” Staring into his eyes was like staring into his soul. She felt voyeuristic and, for some reason, vulnerable—as if she were putting _her_ soul on display for him in return. “Kind of unreal. Too detailed.”  


“Lucius, wake up.”  


There was a muddled response next to him, but Lucius didn’t budge.  


“Lucius,” Snape said louder. “Wake up _now_.”  


Across from her, Lucius blinked open his eyes. Granite grey. Not cold at all. Just solid and strong. And she could see he needed her just much as she needed him.  


Confusion flickered across Malfoy’s face, but it was quickly replaced by concern. “What’s going on?”  


“Hermione’s feverish and she says everything looks strange.”  


“How can she tell?” he mumbled, rubbing his face. “It’s still dark.”  


“Hand me my wand. I’ll check her vitals.”  


Lucius rolled over with an achy groan and retrieved Snape’s wand from the nightstand. Snatching it up, Severus aimed it at her head and began to mutter a string of spells under his breath.  


“Is something happening?” Draco asked in a groggy voice.  


Snape pulled his arm from beneath both of them. “Just checking Hermione. She’s got a temperature.”  


Draco leaned back, and a blast cool air rushed over her damp skin.  


“You’re soaked,” Draco said, trailing his fingers down her arm. “And I don't mean in the usual places. You want to take a cold shower?”  


Hermione moaned. “Yeeees.” Gods! She wanted to swim in a sea of ice water.  


“I can’t say I want to join you. At least not without an insulation charm for protection.”  


“I’ll take her,” Snape told him. “I want to make sure I’m awake.”  


“I’ll clean the sheets while you’re gone,” Lucius said, reaching for his own wand. “Then I’ll go down and owl Veronique.”  


Severus nodded absently. “Yes.” He flicked his wand in an arc and lit all the lamps and candles.  


Hermione flinched. It was too much too fast—and it reminded her of her dream. Something about the sun? Burning?  


“Sit up, love. Let me look at your eyes.”  


Hermione pushed herself up on one arm, and Draco rolled aside so she could shift back onto her hips. She glanced over at him, and her heart jolted with a rush of love. He was so adorable, like a disheveled little angel. And his eyes were the cool, calm grey of the ocean. She sank into them and saw him kissing her goodnight; in fact, she saw him kissing her over and over again, a montage of past snogging sessions. Smiling, she touched his chest.  


Draco gave her a dopey grin and put his hand over hers. “How do you feel, love? Sick or anything?”

“No. Just hot.”  


“Look at me,” Severus said, guiding his lit wand to her eyes.  


"How do they look?" she asked. “Are they gold?”  


He shook his head. “Beautiful brown. Just like usual. Everyone touch her so I can see if the gold is still there.”  


Lucius and Draco each rested a hand on her body while Severus tucked a finger beneath her chin to lift her head. A jittery current coursed down her spine, and her nipples went hard as rocks. Bloody hell! They were like human espresso!  


“Still the same,” Severus said to himself. “How does everything look now that the lights are on?”  


"Too bright. Really intense.”  


“Auras still there?”

She smiled. “Yes. But . . .”  


“But what?”  


“I don’t really need them. I can see more in your eyes.”  


The line between his brow deepened. “What do you mean?”  


“I can see things in your eyes. Like pictures.”  


Severus glanced at Lucius, and they both frowned. Draco, however, appeared excited by the news.  


“What can you see in my eyes?” he asked, moving in closer.  


Hermione turned to him and immediately drifted into his ocean once more, pulled out to sea on his grey tide. “I see you kissing me. And . . . I see us in bed together. Rolling around. And there’s me giving you a bath.”  


He grinned. “Wicked. How do you see it?’  


She shrugged, hard-pressed to explain. “In my head. Like a really clear memory.”  


“Is that all you see?”  


“There’s more I haven’t sorted through yet.”   


“Like what?”  


She swam deeper, watching as new scenes washed over her inner eye. “I see us all together . . . you and Severus snogging . . . you on your broom, flying. And now you’re surrounded by lots of lights. It’s Paris. You’re . . . with your mother. She’s wearing a blue dress.”  


Draco’s face fell. “It’s night?”  


“Yes.”  


“That was the last time we went.”  


“You’re kissing her cheek at a little cafe. She looks happy.”  


A hesitant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “What else do you see?”  


When the next wave came, Hermione’s eyes filled with tears. “You crying. Alone. In your room. With her picture. Oh God.” She clutched her chest. “It feels like my heart is breaking.”  


Severus reached over and turned her face to his, snapping her connection with Draco. Using his fingers, he wiped the tears from her face. “Look in Lucius’s eyes. Tell me what you see.”  


Hermione turned to Lucius, who appeared mildly alarmed by the prospect. She was apprehensive as well, but her curiosity overrode her anxiety; she had to know if his eyes held the same imagery Draco’s did.   


Meeting his gaze with a reassuring nod, she relaxed her focus and let herself meld with his magic. “I see us shagging on the patio.”  


Lucius sighed in relief, exhaling a chuckle. “A worthy reflection.”  


“I see us all together, shagging in this bed. I see Lucius carrying me upstairs. I see him snogging you, Severus. A _lot_.”  


Lucius snorted.  


“I see you two hugging. In this room. There’re sparkles all over the floor.”  


Lucius didn’t look away, but his throat bulged as he visibly swallowed.  


“I see Narcissa. She looks sick. Tired. I see Lucius sitting in her room at St. Mungo’s.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, not wanting to intrude on their private moment. Once again, she felt as if her heart had been pierced by a stiletto of pain; she rubbed at it with the tips of her fingers. “I see Lucius and Narcissa getting married.” She smiled softly. “And baby Draco.”  


Lucius’s jaw clenched.  


“And Draco and Narcissa playing outside. He’s picking her flowers. And . . . I see . . . a cell. It’s dark. And scary. And cold.” She shivered, her stomach lurching with nausea. “I don’t like it here.”  


Severus touched her chin, turning her face back to his. “What do you see in my eyes?”  


Hermione licked her lips and took a deep breath. Eye gazing was much more tiring than advertised. Tiring and disorienting. Her peripheral vision squiggled with floating shapes, and the room rotated ever so slightly when she wasn’t looking.  


Severus stroked the underside of her jaw with one finger, condensing her attention into a single line of tingling skin. The room steadied, and she smiled at him, grateful for the aid, but as soon as their eyes locked, she fell into his black eyes as if she were falling into space, the infinite enormity of the universe swirling around her like a funhouse.  


“I see you watching me while I sleep,” she said, clutching his knee to keep from spinning off the bed. “You’re worried. And I see . . . you in your lab, working. I’m coming through the door; you’re kissing my forehead. And there we are in the rocking chair.”

The image wrapped her in warmth, and Hermione relaxed. “You’re hugging me. Rubbing my back. I see you at school, teaching. I see you with Draco, talking in the kitchen. And you with Lucius in bed. Not shagging, just talking. And there’s the same thing I saw in Lucius’s head: you hugging him in here with a sparkly carpet. Why’s the carpet sparkling?”  


“It’s glass,” he whispered. “What else do you see?”  


“You and Lucius and Narcissa in bed together. But . . . you feel left out. You’re so alone, Severus.” A wave of isolation engulfed her, and a piece of her dream came rushing back—futile desolation and awe seamlessly merged into the starkest, most beautiful darkness.   


A sob closed off her throat, but after a few tries she managed to find a path around it, “I see you alone in your quarters at Hogwarts. And alone at Spinner’s End.”  


His face didn’t budge, but his breathing seemed heavier.  


“I see you talking to Dumbledore. And I see you standing outside a little house. I know it. It’s the Potter’s house in Godric’s Hollow. You’re scared.”  


“That’s enough,” Snape rasped.  


“You and a little redheaded girl at a park. You’re so young. And you’re smiling.”  


“I said that’s enough.”  


The pictures in her head vanished. Hermione blinked, dazed, and looked to him for comfort. Except his eyes had hardened—cold and shuttered. The old Snape was back. Oh gods, she hadn’t meant to hurt him! “I’m sorry! I couldn’t get out.”  


He nodded. “It’s all right. I understand. Lucius, tell Veronique she’s displaying some kind of new Legilimency abilities. Wandless. Unrefined and rogue. She can’t control it yet.”  


“Legilimency? I’ve had my mind invaded by the best, and it never felt like that,” Lucius scoffed.  


“I can’t say I’ve ever known anything like it either, but the basic process seems the same. She’s entering our consciousness and witnessing our memories.”  


“But she’s _feeling_ them, Severus. That’s not Legilimency.”  


“Perhaps she has some latent Empathic powers. I’ve only met one Innate Empath, so my experience is limited, but he explicitly told me Empaths only feel what others are feeling at that moment. They feel it in their bodies; they don’t have visions, and they don’t go digging through peoples thoughts. Plus I was able to block her out with Occlumency, and Occlumency can’t block an Innate Empath. Which leads me to believe it’s some kind of Legilimency.”  


“Can a person be both?” Lucius asked.  


“I’ve never heard of that,” Severus said, his brow furrowed in thought. “Legilimency is an openness to the intricacies of the mind, while Empaths are more connected to the emotional body and the heart. People tend to lean toward one or the other. But I don’t see why it couldn’t be possible. I’ll keep an eye out when I search the library today.” He let his hand drift lower, grazing her collarbone and trailing down to her heart. “It’s time we got some real answers about what’s going on; if Veronique doesn’t know, we’ll have to do our own research.” Severus glanced at Lucius. “We should let Hermione rest. I’ll get her in the shower and cool her off. Wait to send the owl until we’re done. If it helps, that might be a clue . . . or a symptom. At the very least it’ll be helpful information.”  


His fingers glided upward to her neck, where he caressed the curve of her throat with barely any pressure, almost tickling. “Did that wear you out?”  


“Sort of,” she said carefully, unsure if she had adequate words to describe how she felt.  


He nodded.  


“Are you upset with me?” she asked hesitantly.  


He did a double-take, obviously stunned, and then looked to Draco and Lucius for some kind of clarification. “Upset with you?”  


“For seeing all that. I feel as though I went snooping through your diary.”  


He breathed out a small smile. “I’ll get over it.”  


“You still love me?”  


The hard barrier of his gaze softened. “Of course I do.”  


“And you two?” she asked Lucius and Draco.  


Lucius smirked and leaned over Snape to kiss her. “We all still love you.”  


Draco pecked the back of shoulder. “Slytherins just aren’t known for their emotional honesty. You outed us, and we weren't ready for it.”  


She smiled at him. “I promise I won’t go looking without permission.”  


“You might not like what you find,” Snape said, his voice dark with warning.  


Hermione rested her hand over his and squeezed his fingers.  “I knew what I was getting into when we started this whole thing. I know you all have pasts you’d like to forget—or pasts you’re clinging to—just like anybody else. You’re not going to scare me away.” She looked at Lucius, the memory of his cell still haunting her heart. “Everyone has regrets. It’s who you are now that matters to me. I love you, past and all.”  


Lucius stacked his hand atop hers, his mouth a tight line of restraint, but his eyes clearly saying _thank you._  


Hermione touched Draco with her other hand, and a shiver skittered up her spine. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell you what I see anymore. I don’t want to make you sad.”

Draco lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “You can tell me. Just warn me first.”  


Severus patted her leg. “Come along, love. Let’s put you in the shower and see if we can get your temperature down.”  


Hermione groaned in gratitude. She was ready to cool off and rinse away the sweat. And she needed time to think. Suddenly being able to poke about in people’s heads was disconcerting to say the least. She had to get used to the idea; and she had to think about how such insight might change her life. That was a lot to sort through, and it might take more than a shower to come to any conclusions.  


Plus, being in the shower with Snape could be distracting.   


If she played her cards right, she might not get any thinking done at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Key Change—When a song changes key partway through. (Usually a half step up—I can’t think of any that go down—and usually it’s toward the end of the song. Think of the final big upward heave in Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You.”)
> 
> “Suddenly I See” by KT Tunstall. Written by KT Tunstall and released in 2005 on her album Eye to the Telescope. <https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=9AEoUa0Hlso>


	62. Libretto

62—Libretto  


“And if you’re searching for an answer, stick around. I say, it’s coming up. It’s coming up.”—Paul McCartney  


(Severus)   


Stacks of books encircled Severus like towering sentinels, some leaning precariously, others already toppled. He’d collected every book in the Malfoy library that had anything to do with sex magic, and he’d been systematically eliminating possibilities since breakfast. A mountain of discards sat to his right, its height growing a little more with every passing hour. But Severus wasn’t discouraged; he’d scarcely dented the surface of what seemed to be a bottomless well of carnal knowledge.  


The Malfoy lineage was a perverse one, and it appeared no generation shied away from the intrigue of sexual magic. While sex magic was in no way “dark,” like any field it could only reflect the nature of the witch or wizard using it. And the Malfoys weren’t exactly known for their lighter aspects.  


Most of the books were nothing more than fluff: potions to enhance erections, wandwork for intricate restraints, charms for autoerotic pleasure. All of which were quickly dismissed. He needed something with theoretical substance. Something intelligent. The older books tended to wander into a world of strange and forgotten lore, and Severus gravitated to them first, hopeful they would provide him with something other than arcane diagrams and diatribes on blood purity.  


Veronique had owled back, assuring them that, since Hermione’s temperature had returned to normal after a cold shower, there was no cause for alarm—Hermione’s body was simply adjusting to the new magic. She told them to bring her in if the temperature returned and couldn’t be lowered. So far Hermione seemed fine. She claimed she was getting used to her new perceptions, and Draco had taken her to Diagon Alley to test her vision while they searched the rare book sellers for pertinent titles.  


Severus rubbed his eyes and checked the clock to see how long they'd been gone. Galloping Gorgons! He’d missed lunch, and it was almost time for dinner! Where had the day gone?   


Flipping through the remaining pages of his current selection, he decided to finish it before heading to the kitchen; heating up the casserole wouldn’t take long, and there were still so many books to get through he didn’t dare procrastinate.  


Leaning back over the decaying tome with a sigh, Severus returned to his skimming.  


_Uses for animal semen_. No. But he might come back to that for potions research. _Ingesting fairy dust to achieve altered states of sexual awareness_. No. His sexual awareness was uncomfortably acute as it was. _Music to induce ecstasy._ No, but he’d save that for Lucius; he might be interested.  


_Magical Triads._    


Severus stopped. When was the last time he’d heard that term? Three decades? Four? He’d dabbled in sexual magic as a teenager and had come across the phrase in his reading, but the idea had been so outside his realm of reality, he’d banished the information to the cobwebbed storage space of his brain. Obviously there were too many of them to be a triad, but it was at least a step in the right direction: multiple people with some sort of magical-sexual connection. He perused the section to see if it held any clues.  


_Extremely rare is the Triad, a group of three individuals who, for reasons unknown, become interwoven, locking the members in a magical union. Gender is inconsequential, for it is the core essence that merges and bonds. Although not as rare as Quartets [see_ _Museburg_ _], Triads are difficult to study as they tend to hide their unconventional relationships due to societal constraints._   


Severus stared at the last sentence. Quartets? What the hell was a Quartet? Something rarer than a Triad? What could be rarer than a Triad? They were scarcely more than legend.   


Museburg?   


Hadn't he seen a Museburg book when he was separating the stacks?  


Spinning around, Severus pushed aside one pile and started rummaging though the dusty assemblage behind it, quickly tossing aside each book as soon as he identified the author.   


He finally came to a weathered grey manuscript whose gilt lettering had worn to a dull mirage—but he could just make out a tarnished “Museburg” along the spine. Severus flipped it open and scoured the pages, searching for some reference to Quartets.  


It seemed Museburg had written a detailed guide on sexual energy and how it merged with the partner’s during sex. Severus would have been interested in reading the whole thing if he wasn't so pressed for time.  


Coming to a chapter on Triads, he slowed down. Museburg was far more in-depth than his contemporaries, and the wealth of information he’d collected held Severus riveted. At the end of the chapter, a small addendum caught his eye:  


_In my all my years of research, I have only once come across an infamous “Quartet.” I met them through a Triad in Spain, and they agreed to speak candidly of their connection._   


_This particular Quartet was comprised of two witches and two wizards, all of them woven together in a unique tapestry of magic. Much like the Triads I had studied, each member of the Quartet displayed a keen magical ability, which they claimed had grown and altered as they became closer over the years._   


_They allowed me to stay with them for several weeks, and I witnessed firsthand the incredible power of their love. Their individual energies and personalities were integral to the raw magic coursing through them, and when those energies combined, they manifested in an altogether new force that dwarfed their previous powers._   


_Although the same essential process happens with Triads, the addition of one extra person seems to make a drastic difference. The magic radiating off them was palpable, even when they weren’t engaged in sexual congress._   


_I suspect that while the Triad is a sturdy tripod of magical integration, the Quartet brings in the power of four. The four directions: north, south, east, and west. The four seasons: spring summer, winter, and fall. The four elements: earth, air, fire, and water. The four times of the day: morning, noon, evening, and night._   


_As with all other sexual magic, sexual fluids are a key ingredient, intensifying the effects of congress; but with the Quartet the effects are even greater. All the members claimed that ingestion of the others’ fluids increased their well-being; and even more telling, they claimed that combining the fluids produced a spectacularly strong outcome. Orgasm and simultaneous touch were, understandably, integral to their potency._   


_Just like a Triad, the Quartet’s magic is sparked by sexual, magical, and emotional compatibility. Although their inter-personal relationships were varied, they all loved one another; and that, I suspect, is the origin of their extraordinary power. Love is a magic I have yet to see adequately explained, and its strength is beyond the scope of my understanding; but the Quartet confirmed my theories about the necessary components of a robust union: a melding of body, heart, mind, and soul._   


Severus read it again.  


And again.  


Were they a Quartet? That seemed preposterous. They weren’t some mystical coterie of libidinous power.  


But everything fit perfectly. They were so obviously the four elements Severus wondered why he hadn’t seen it before.  


Draco, with his ocean of emotions, was water. Heart. Evening. Lucius was earth—the solid strength. Body. Night. Severus could be nothing but air. Mind. Morning. And Hermione—she was the soul. Noon. Fire. Summer.   


Heat.   


_Fuck_.   


Her fevers. She was literally embodying her element. They were bringing it out in her.  


And Draco had been right about the magic semen. She had the most visceral reactions when their fluids merged into one super-emission. No doubt their simultaneous orgasms boosted the connection and probably made up for the times they lacked sperm mixture.  


But in reality they were always mixing. _In_ her. She had become the vessel for their magical essences. And because she had become the sole repository of ALL four energies, her magic was expanding at an exponential rate.  


Severus scanned the passage again and paused when he reached the line about sexual fluids. Sweet Circe! Did she smell and taste so amazing to him because of the magic coursing through her veins? And Lucius, was his delectability due to their connection? Would Draco taste equally enticing? What would happen if they all started ingesting the others’ sexual fluids? Draco and Lucius weren’t going to like that, but hadn’t Draco already licked their cum out of her once before? He had. No, wait, he hadn't gotten his own in the mix. Did the person absorbing the fluids count as their own element?  


What about the love? They all loved Hermione without question, but how did the rest of them fare? His feelings for Lucius had been steadily growing over the past several months, and although he’d never said it out loud, Severus loved Lucius in a way he’d never loved anyone else. They shared a bond most people couldn’t comprehend. And while things with Draco were still too new and undecided for any declarations of love, Severus knew in his heart that his feelings for the boy were more than simple affection.   


It seemed Lucius and Draco were the odd ones out; they weren’t romantically involved. But deep down they _did_ love one another. And although that love was complicated, it was certainly intense _and_ linked by blood. Was that enough? It must have been, or there would be no magic to speak of.  


And there was definitely some kind of magic, of that he was sure. He’d felt it. Witnessed it. Lived it. All the momentous changes in his life suddenly made sense. His improved sleep. His sense of inner calm. His success in the lab. Although he hadn’t worked out the dragon pox cure, he’d developed the scar balm . . . and then improved it. Everything was looking up.  


Or was it that _he_ was looking up? Had love changed his views? Had he caused his own good fortune simply by opening his heart?   


And what of Lucius and Draco? Had they experienced comparable benefits? He needed to talk to them immediately. What was happening _to_ them and what was happening _because_ of them might be hard to separate, but he needed to at least gather all the information so they could look at it objectively.   


This was their _lives_ they were dealing with. Their magic. He would leave nothing to chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Libretto—A book of text containing the words of an opera or musical.
> 
> “Coming Up” by Paul McCartney. Written by Paul McCartney and released in 1980. There’s the original version and then the one he recorded live with Wings. 
> 
> [Original Version](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ieEvOvdr2Fg)  
>  [Wings Version](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=EXNFynXEow0)


	63. Interpretation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ah, one plot milestone down, a few more to go :) The next release of chapters will be 64-73. I have absolutely no idea how long it will take me, but I have to rewrite most of them, so it won’t be quick. See you all as soon as I can. Happy reading! (Also, I apologize in advance for the sexual cliffhanger that is this chapter. You’ll have to fill in the fun with your own imagination, because there’s no resolution.)

63—Interpretation  


“I guess you’re just what I needed.”—The Cars  


(Lucius)   


Sighing deeply, grateful for a quiet moment alone after such a confusing morning, Lucius glanced up from his tea, his eyes almost drifting closed in the hazy evening light—only to have all the relaxation flee his body in a startled jump as a Snape materialized from the shadows. Bloody hell! He wanted to reprimand Severus for sneaking about like a cat burglar, but the animation in Snape’s black eyes derailed his train of thought. That mad gleam hadn’t been seen since their days at Hogwarts—which could only mean one thing. “You’ve figured out what's going on with Hermione, haven't you?”  


Severus oozed into the room like ink across parchment, his movements fluid and graceful, but the ebullience his energy preceded him, almost knocking Lucius flat. Lowering his chin, Snape gave him an almost imperceptible grin, a grin that would have appeared sinister on anyone else. “Have you noticed any improvements in your life since we started seeing Hermione?”  


“I take it you mean other than immense sexual relief?”  


“Yes. Improved health? Clearer thinking? Fortuitous business dealings perhaps?”  


Lucius leaned back in his chair. “Yes, now that you mention it. I’m sleeping better than I have in years, and I feel better in general. Not as tired . . . or angry. As far as my business dealings, I've had nothing but huge returns on all my recent investments. That money for Hermione was a drop in the proverbial bucket.”  


“Same here,” Severus replied, his grin growing. “I’ve been sleeping soundly, and my work in the lab is going extraordinarily well.”  


“Are you insinuating that our improvements are due to our little Gryffindor?”  


“I think they're just the tip of the iceberg.”  


Draco chose that moment to burst through the door, interrupting Snape’s big reveal with his usual blithe cockiness. “We’re home!” he announced as he strutted across the kitchen. “Hermione’s playing with her new books in the library.”  


“How did it go?” Severus asked. “What did she see?”  


“She said everyone still has auras, but she can’t see anything in their eyes. So I guess that’s just something she can do with us. And she said her sense-sensitivity has calmed down, so no more bloodhound jokes.”  


“Did you find anything helpful through the private dealers?” Severus pressed.  


“Not about sexually-induced psychic powers. But she bought some other books that struck her fancy.”  


“Is she still a normal temperature?”  


“As far as I could tell. I was going to get her some pumpkin juice—but not because she’s burning up or anything.” He took a glass from the cupboard and summoned the juice pitcher from the icebox.  


Severus leaned against the counter, his eyes on Draco’s back. “Have you noticed any improvements in your life since Hermione moved in?”  


Draco’s brow furrowed, and he gave Snape a confused frown. But then he shrugged, as if peculiar questions were to be expected when conversing with Snape. “Yeah, of course.”  


Severus rolled his hand, gesturing for him to elaborate.  


Draco poured the juice and set down the pitcher before continuing. “I’m sleeping far better than I used to, and . . . I used to have nightmares all the time, but since we started sharing a bed, they’ve stopped.”  


Severus met Lucius's eye, and Lucius nodded. His nightmares had dissipated as well. And it would appear Snape was in the same boat. Was Hermione a human dreamcatcher?  


“I _feel_ better too,” Draco said thoughtfully. “Less anxious. Especially in the morning. I used to wake up on edge—like I was under attack. But now it’s like . . . I’m finally relaxed.”  


Lucius knew exactly what he meant. He use to leap out of a dead sleep and search the room for danger, but now he just spent his mornings studying the washed out freckles on Hermione’s nose until she opened her eyes and reminded him what happiness looked like. The desperation and panic that had once ruled his life had faded to nothing more than a niggle. And judging by the expression on Snape’s face, he was experiencing the same thing. How interesting. “Well don’t keep us in suspense.”  


“I want to wait and tell Hermione at the same time.”  


“You figured out what’s going on?” Draco asked, his pensive scowl reversing so dramatically his eyebrows shot up his forehead.  


“I’m fairly certain I have. I’d like to hear everyone’s thoughts on the matter though.”  


“Well why the hell are we hanging about in the kitchen then? Let’s go ask her.” Draco swiped the glass off the counter and strode out without a backward glance.   


Severus and Lucius both hurried after him.  


In the library they found Hermione reclining on the couch, studying a thick book in her lap. When she looked up, her smile lit the room like the sun, and the roiling excitement in Lucius's gut melted to easy contentment.  


Draco handed over the glass and bent down to kiss her head.  


“Thank you, Draco. How’s the search going, Severus?” Hermione’s eyes slid over the strewn mess of books Snape had left on the floor.  


“I found something.”  


She jolted upright, half her juice sloshing down her arm. “What!”  


Severus waved her back down and sat at the other end of the sofa, beside her feet. After cleaning her spill with a flick of his wand, he pulled a book from under his arm and, pressing open the pages, handed it to her. “Read this last section and tell me what you think.”  


Hermione scooted closer and took the book. Her brown eyes flew side to side, and her pink tongue crept out the way it did when she was concentrating—which caused Lucius’s trousers to tighten to an uncomfortable pinch. That girl was going to turn him into a regular bibliophile if she insisted on reading like that.  


When she finished, she lowered the book and stared at Severus. “This sounds just like us.”  


“I thought so too. Pass it to Draco and Lucius. Let them read it for themselves.”  


Hermione gave the book to Draco, and Lucius leaned over the back of Draco’s chair to read it over his shoulder.  


The more he read, the more unreal the words appeared. A Quartet? He’d never even heard of such a thing. Triads were rare enough—three people so perfectly attuned their magical cores became linked; the likelihood of coming across not one but _two_ other people, who all happened to align with one’s magical signature, was about as likely as coming across two four-leaf clovers . . . that had been pissed on by unicorns . . . and preserved by pixie dust for five thousand years: not impossible but highly improbable. It spoke of something beyond luck.     


Finding _four_ people who fit together that perfectly sounded like madness. “Is this Museburg saying we were _made_ for each other?”  


In unison, Hermione and Severus both answered with a firm “no.”  


Hermione took the book back and flipped through the preceding pages. “Triads aren’t destiny, they’re just . . . _extraordinarily_ compatible. They’re in sync with each other's energies in very unique ways. I don’t think we’re any different.”  


“I concur,” Severus muttered. “This isn’t destiny or I would have experienced a boost of magic whenever I was with you, Lucius. Our sex lives have always been intense, and we’ve always been very close, but I didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary until I moved into the manor. Which makes me suspect _we’re_ affecting the magic as much as it’s affecting us. It's a two-way street, and our free will is an important component—we _chose_ to be together. Also, it leads me to wonder whether our affinity is also contingent on time. I don’t think this could have worked at any other point in our lives. I mean, the rudimentary ingredients were there, but the way we play off one another and integrate seems situation specific. That would mean it’s not only our personalities and individual magic that influence the connection, but the current circumstances—our current selves. Hermione’s love of ‘who we are now’ as she said this morning might be more accurate than we could have guessed. Ten years ago I doubt any of this would have been possible.”  


As Hermione reread the passage, her pretty forehead puckered with thought. "Severus is right. We became these individualized expressions of the aspects over time— _with_ each other . . . maybe _for_ each other. It’s just really lucky that we all got together when we did. Oh!” She clapped a hand over her mouth and glanced at Lucius, her eyes wide with horror. “I didn’t mean it was lucky Narcissa . . . is gone. I just meant  . . .”  


Lucius hadn’t thought she meant anything of the sort, but his heart twinged at the reminder. _Sweet Merlin, what would Narcissa think of all this?_  


“We know,” Severus assured her when Lucius just sat there frozen in his memories. “No one was thinking that. But I _was_ thinking along the same lines you were . . . about us transforming over time— _with_ each other. I think there’s even more to our compatibility and connection than Museburg mentions.”  


Hermione studied him, her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

“There’s no mention in the book about how they functioned as a cohesive unit, how they complemented each other. Our own dynamic is rather . . . unorthodox. Plus our members include a father and son, who aren’t intimately involved.”  


“But they do love each other,” Hermione cut in. “Love magic isn’t limited to romantic love. Just look how Harry’s mum saved him. Maybe Lucius and Draco have a stronger bond than we can comprehend. Maybe they have a stronger bond than any of us.”  


Lucius looked down at his son’s blond head. Of course he loved Draco, he just didn’t like to go on about it and make a fuss. Did people honestly question his devotion to his only child? Merlin’s beard! He’d spent his entire adult life doing everything he could to ensure Draco’s success and survival. Just because he didn’t go around building him up with false praise didn’t mean the boy wasn’t loved.  


Severus nodded. "I thought so too. It’s obvious whatever love they have works, or there would be no magic to affect us. But when I said dynamic, I meant something more. We all . . . have very specific needs the others are fulfilling.”  


Hermione’s brow knitted tighter. “You mean why I can’t get by without each of you?”  


“Partly. Have you ever considered that, maybe, it’s not just you who needs us?”  


“No, I understand you need me too. I . . . “ She blushed. “I can see it.”  


“Yes, but I meant more than that. Perhaps _each_ of us needs the others for similar reasons.”    


Her face brightened. “You mean like how Lucius is kind of a brother to you?”  


Severus smiled softly.  


“And Draco is _kind_ _of_ like a son.”  


“Yes.”  


“And Draco is literally Lucius’s son. And . . . I’m your little girl.”  


“Exactly. And you’re Lucius’s wife, and Draco’s . . . _nanny_.”  


She grinned. “We’re one big happy family.”  


“In the most disturbing way possible, yes.”  


Lucius saw it all in a sudden flash of understanding, the truth revealing itself like thunderbolt to the brain: she was every woman to every man . . . wife, mother, and child—their multi-faceted goddess. But she wasn’t simply playing a role—she was their balance, she was what they hungered for in the deepest recesses of their souls. Severus needed to care for someone, Draco needed to be cared for, and Lucius needed a partner who would both love him and keep him in check, someone he could shower with adoration, someone he could give the best of himself. “Wait, wait. Go back. What did you say about us becoming the aspects over time?”  


"I meant we’re the elements," Hermione explained. Then she stopped short and looked at Snape. “That’s what you thought too, right?”  


Severus nodded. “As soon as I read it, it seemed rather obvious. And this explains your heating and cooling issues.”  


She grinned. “Come on baby light my fire?”  


“Indeed,” Snape replied with a chuff.  


Draco tipped his head to one side and rubbed his jaw. “If we’re each an element, which one am I?”  


“Water,” Hermione and Severus answered at the same time.  


Draco seemed to be turning that over in his mind.  


Lucius slid into the seat next to Hermione and pressed his leg to hers. Resting his hand on her thigh, he stroked the firm planes of the muscle beneath; he needed her body to gather his thoughts. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much about elemental magic, but if I recall correctly, air is intellect, is it not?”  


Hermione nodded. “Snape’s air. You’re earth.”  


“I’m dirt?”  


Hermione laughed and shook her head. “You’re stable and physical. You’re the realm of senses and pleasure. And _money_. Oh Merlin,” she whispered, knocking her fist to her forehead. “You’re right, Severus. It was staring us in the face the whole time. Lucius is the rock-solid provider. And he loves the grounding connection of human touch. Are we bloody blind? How could we not see this?”  


“But I like to be touched too,” Draco pointed out. “We _all_ liked to be touched.”  


“Yes, we’re all human beings who need touch,” Hermione confirmed, “but you need it for different reasons. You crave the emotional connection; Lucius, the physical connection. And you two go out of your way to get the touch you need. Severus and I have spent years alone—Severus in his head, me in my causes—but you’re always out with someone. And the only time Lucius went without touch was after Narcissa. And look what happened; it was hell for him.”  


Lucius looked at Snape, his mind snapping back to the day Severus had shown up unannounced and rescued Lucius from his death-spiral of despair. And his memory had no problem pinpointing the moment the relief had hit: when Snape put his arms around him. And Severus had spent the whole weekend holding him, never letting go.  


“That’s why I would feel so much better after Severus visited on the weekends,” he said to himself. “He was grounding me enough to keep me sane.”  


Severus sat back, his mouth pressed into a contemplative line. “Probably. Whether part of a Quartet or not, everyone gravitates toward an element; and you’ve always been fond of the physical realm. But looking back, I don't think it was just the grounding of my touch that helped you. Sex encompasses many attributes that fall under earth’s domain: sensuality, pleasure, solidity, manifestation, beauty. And notice the change when Hermione was added to the equation. With me you weren’t providing for anyone; you were missing a large piece of your own puzzle. We were fucking, but it lacked some important requirements.”  


“Soul,” Draco said. “That’s why I need Hermione so much.”   


Severus rolled his neck in a vacillating nod of agreement. "Hermione is an important part—but that’s true for each of us. If one of us were missing, we’d _all_ be unbalanced.”  


“Then why is everything happening to Hermione if we’re all equally important?”  


Severus looked at Hermione, and the corners of his mouth curled into a sly smile. “Because she’s our little cum queen.”  


Draco blinked a few times then comprehension dawned in his face. “Oh. So I was right about the magic semen,” he laughed.  


"I believe so. She’s getting the constant benefit of all of our elements. But look how much more powerful the magic became when we mixed inside her. And when we all come together.”  


Hermione sat back and smiled to herself. “There’s one more ingredient that’s making a huge difference.”  


Draco sat up straighter, suddenly sure of himself. "Love."  


Hermione nodded. “Even before we admitted it out loud to each other, the magic knew. It changed as we grew closer, just like the book said.”  


“And that combined magic is running through all of us.” Snape told them. “It’s why we’re all sleeping better and feeling better. It why work is going so well. But Hermione’s making these huge leaps and bounds because she’s housing all of our energies on a regular basis.”  


"So if we all started ‘housing’ the others’ energies, the same thing would happen to us?” Draco said with a grimace of mild revulsion.  


“I don’t know if the magic would manifest in each of us the same way it has in Hermione,” Severus replied, “but yes, I think we would also experience drastic changes of a similar nature.”  


Lucius wasn’t too keen on the idea of “housing” Draco’s seed. “Are you suggesting I suck my son’s dick? I think I’m willing to forgo superpowers for my own peace of mind.”  


Severus snorted. “I thought you might say that. While I have no compunctions about ingesting or absorbing either of your ejaculate, I can see how this might get complicated. But just as a suggestion, I believe Draco has already eaten our semen out of Hermione once before. I’m curious if you noticed anything unusual at the time, Draco.”  


Draco’s brow lowered. “I can’t recall. But I do remember that it didn’t taste bad. On the contrary, it was disturbingly good. Almost addictive.”  


“I suspect all our fluids taste exceptionally good to the other three. And I suspect the results are cumulative, so it's doubtful you’d notice anything on the first try. But Hermione’s been absorbing our energies for quite some time now. It would take us years to catch up . . . if we ever could.”  


“For the good of the Quartet, I’m more than willing to let all of you eat each others’ cum out of my pussy whenever you please,” Hermione said brightly.  


“How magnanimous of you, love,” Snape drawled, his thin lips twitching at the sight of her devious leer.  


“I suppose I’m willing to lick our cum out of her,” Lucius conceded. “How are we going to decide who gets to do it?”  


“We’ll take turns,” Severus said with an absent wave of his hand.  


Draco began to unbutton his shirt. “Well, now that we know what the hell’s going on, I say we capitalize on it. The more shagging the better. We’ll just divvy up the proceeds so Hermione doesn’t get too much at once.”  


Hermione immediately lifted her T-shirt over her head. “Hear, hear,” she said from inside the cocoon of cotton.  


Lucius looked over at Snape, who was chuckling to himself as she emerged looking like a deranged ball of dandelion fluff. Malfoy's own mouth curled at the corners, caught up in Snape’s exaltation as if it were his own. Which perhaps it was. He didn’t know how Quartet magic worked. Did he feel what the others felt, or was he merely delighted to see his mercurial friend in a rare moment of pure boyish jollity?   


Did it really matter? He was happy for Severus—and happy for himself. Hell, he was even happy for Draco. For a moment all his defenses vanished: all his competitiveness, all his judgement and fear. And in their place he found acceptance. They weren't four people dealing with an overly complex living arrangement; they were simply themselves. Exactly as they were supposed to be. And while that sense of unity was gone before he could get acquainted, it left him grounded in a way he’d never felt before. A way that felt right. A way that felt innate to his being. It was as if, after a lifetime of turmoil and upheaval, he’d found his place in the universe.  


And in that place lay the promise of peace.  


Hermione wiggled out of her knickers and tossed them over her head as she lunged for Draco’s bulging zip with a rebellious giggle.  


Severus snatched her pink panties from the air and brought them to his nose, his eyes rolling back as he inhaled their magic. His hand trailed down to his trousers, and in a frustrated rush, he ripped open his flies. An obelisk of black boxers sprang forth, and Severus grunted out a dry, “When in Rome,” as he sank into a boneless heap  


Lucius couldn’t help laughing at Snape’s relieved expression. “When in Rome, my foot. You’re gagging for it.”  


Snape’s eyebrow inched up his forehead, and he turned to Lucius with a languorous smirk. Not saying a word, he reached across the empty seat and covered Malfoy’s crotch with his palm, his fingers methodically “searching” for the zip. As he lowered it, he caressed the distended bulge within, making it clear that he knew Lucius was equally aroused. And had been for quite some time.  


Lucius wrapped his hand around Snape’s and thrust into the warmth of his fist, unabashed by his state of readiness. “What can I say? You and Hermione have converted me to Biblioism. I can’t even come in here anymore without getting hard.”  


Snape’s smirk grew to a smile, and he leaned in for a kiss. “You’re one of us now,” he whispered, his teeth grazing Lucius’s lower lip. “One of us, one of us.”  


Lucius chuckled, never more appreciative of Snape’s warped sense of humor than he was in that moment.  


Severus understood.  


They _both_ had finally figured out where they belonged.   


And for the first time in their lives, it happened to be exactly where they were. 

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interpretation—The expression the performer brings when playing his or her instrument.
> 
> “Just What I Needed” by the Cars. Written by Ric Ocasek (vocalist and rhythm guitarist for the Cars) in 1978.  
> <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z5-rdr0qhWk>
> 
> The line “One of us, one of us” is from the movie Freaks (1932), and has been referenced in many modern days shows/music.
> 
>  
> 
> [Cultural Influence of Freaks](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freaks#Cultural_influence)
> 
>  
> 
> [Freaks Movie Clip](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=W99n083E0IA)


End file.
